Before her voice had even faded, her waist twisted in a bizarre motion, and three bone-piercing nails swept past Zhang Ming's ear.
As the subduing pestle, enveloped in a foul wind, came crashing down from above, the Yin-Yang Fan in Zhang Ming's hand suddenly snapped open.
The moment metal struck metal, the Buddhist sacred artifact cast from dark iron shattered inch by inch like glazed glass.
Chapter 123