“There are three this time.”
Chen Ping drew the Dragon Slayer Sword, and purple chaotic fire slowly burned on the sword, distorting and deforming the surrounding air.
“Two last time, three this time.” Jiang Xuelan also drew her longsword, its silver-white blade gleaming coldly. “The people of the Divine Race are truly generous one after another.”
“It’s not generosity, it’s arrogance.”
Chen Ping’s gaze passed over the increasingly approaching golden lights and landed on a distorted space further away.
The spiritual energy fluctuations in that space were different from those around it, faintly forming a semi-transparent vortex, with something in the center of the vortex shimmering with a faint golden light.
“There’s someone watching us from the shadows over there,”
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