The night fog was dense, like a deluge of ink staining the heavens and earth.
With each breath, Qin Ming seemed to be swallowing a knife, causing his nose and lungs to ache painfully. Is this the fierce gusts of wind above the Nine Heavens? Capable of tearing the body apart, able to scatter one's spirit.
Furthermore, the issue worsens as one ascends higher. Qin Ming's chest was about to be pierced through, and he doubted that even a Grandmaster could withstand after venturing past a certain range.
Fortunately, he had the golden silk parasol, helping him withstand the wind disaster.
Suddenly, the parasol's surface trembled violently, caused by the impact of Worldly Flowing Fire, like magma erupting from the depths of the earth. It burst ferociously, and finally, dazzling firelight hung down from the fringes at the edge of the parasol like thousands of strands of flame threads, continuously lengthening and pouring downward.
