Surviving In A Martial Arts World To Become A Saint

The yellow sand howled like the wailing of ten thousand ghosts.

Luo Zhixian carried Chen Qing, relying on a Grandmaster's last control over heaven and earth's elemental energy, treading through the void in midair, covering dozens of zhang with each step.

The fierce wind tore at their robes, making them flap loudly.

Chen Qing could clearly feel that the hand gripping the back of his collar, which had been steady and strong at first, began to tremble slightly as their figure flickered through space, the strength rapidly draining away.

The fresh blood seeping from that hideous wound on his master's chest had long since soaked through the gray robe, and now with their high-speed movement, it continuously dripped down.

Nearly a hundred li of distance would have been merely a moment's work for Luo Zhixian at his peak.

But now, this hundred li seemed as long as if it had no end.

Chen Qing's heart remained suspended, as he could hear his master's breathing growing heavier and heavier.

That strange malevolent qi invading his master's body was like a disease that clung to the bone, frantically destroying his life force and devouring his martial Dao foundation.