Countless swords surged forward like a flood toward Wang Ye.
The sky was filled with a swaying sword rain.
From Wang Ye's eyes, purple thunder flew out.
In mid-air, the purple thunder, about ten meters in diameter, collided with the sword rain.
The swords turned into white iron mist under the impact of the purple thunder.
After piercing through layers of sword rain, the momentum of the purple thunder was visibly weakened.
"Is this your full strength?"
Yuan Zhang sneered, a wicked look in his eyes.
After passing through the ten-meter stream of swords, the purple thunder had shrunk to the size of a fingertip.
The purple thunder ultimately dissipated about three meters in front of Yuan Zhang, vanishing into nothingness.
"Die!"
In contrast, a few swords slashed across Wang Ye's chest.
The fierce Sword Qi instantly tore open his clothes, with one Sword Qi even slicing his chest, dyeing his robe red with blood.
