Jiang Shang's pupils suddenly contracted; he lowered his head only to see a sword piercing directly through his Qi Sea, penetrating his Dantian.
"Gurgling---!"
Crimson blood continuously flowed from Jiang Shang's mouth.
But upon closer inspection, there clearly was no sword.
Perhaps the sword was in front of him.
An Jing stood not far away, his eyes devoid of any expression.
He was still reminiscing about the elegance of that strike, sensing the fleeting essence within it.
In the depths of his mind, An Jing had already touched the edge of the Seventh Realm.
The wind howled, and the ground was a complete mess.
Time seemed to stop at this moment.
Jiang Shang placed his palm over his Dantian, seemingly trying to stem the gushing blood like a spring, which immediately stained his hand red.
"I possess the Undying Blood, I will not die."
He had always believed that his body harbored the miraculous Undying Blood.