"But now, you losers can't stop me!"

Long Aotian laughed, taunted, and struck out with the Ancestral Dragon Fist.

Each step was more than ten feet long, neither fast nor slow, nor stopped.

At this moment, he was like the God of War possessing him. He did not dodge any attacks and allowed them to hit him.

He just kept throwing punches!

Simple and crude!

Not even a trick!

In the blink of an eye, the team was wiped out again.

This time, only half of the more than a hundred people remained.

"I'm tired of calling you trash!"

Long Aotian roared, turned around and charged into the crowd again.

In the blink of an eye, they broke through the formation again.

At this moment, there were only about twenty people left.

Among them, most of them are from the Dragon Clan.

Long Aotian looked at them coldly and said disdainfully: "Trash? Can't even run away?"

The remaining twenty or so people looked at each other in confusion, and no one knew how to answer.

"If you fight hard, what's the point of running away! Even if you die, you have to kill him!"

A human monk at the seventh level of the Saint Realm raised the sword in his hand and struck it down with all his strength.

In an instant, the chaotic aura was split open by him.

It seemed that the sword light was like tearing apart the chaos.

"This sword finally has some momentum!"

"However, you are in the seventh level of the Saint Realm, and the power of this sword is still so poor. You don't have the courage to open the world with one sword, nor the determination to ask about life and death with one sword!"

"So, you are still a waste!"

Long Aotian raised his hand and welcomed the sword directly.

With the wrist, he grabbed the knife, and he was hard to capture the holy knife.

Long Aotian hummed and said, "The weapon that just entered the Holy step? People are waste, even if the weapon is also a waste!"

Long Aotian rubbed his hands, holding the holy knife in his palm, and turned into a scrap iron.

"Escape!"
Chapter completed!