Chunks of bark, shrapnel of exploding wood, and shockwaves of spiritual pressure tore into the clearing, flinging dirt, leaves, and beastly roars in every direction.
Fang Yuan spun and stared for a split second.
The beasts reared back, snarling as the barrage knocked the mid-stage ones off-balance.
Even the peak-stage Saberfang was momentarily slowed, its advance staggered by the terrain collapsing into a smoking mess of shattered trunks and jagged roots.
In the aftermath, Lin Zhaoyue landed lightly beside Fang Yuan, her hair fluttering like silk in the breeze, lips curled in smug satisfaction.
She gave a little twirl, graceful, theatrical, as if performing for an invisible audience and then shot him a radiant smile.
"Look at that, husband," she said, brushing off imaginary dust from her robe sleeves. "I'm the most useful woman you'll ever find."
Fang Yuan's eye twitched.
Not because she was wrong.
