A clash of arms, peerless elegance!
As Zhaboluo and Ziran charged into the frantic camp of the Ancient Primordial army, they brought with them not only the sound of clashing weapons and armored hooves, but also a continuous stream of flying sword-lights and the merciless sweep of whips, accompanied by wave upon wave of screams, explosions, and a rain of blood and carnage.
This was no one-sided massacre; it was the unleashed fury of two women—Zhaboluo and Ziran.
Chapter 4481