At the moment when the dragon scales collided with the Sword Light, sparks burst out like a meteor shower, scorching holes into the Cloud Sea.
The Flood Dragon suddenly arched its body, its four claws swelling three times in size, with faint space wrinkles appearing at the claw tips — precisely the result of Chen Sheng's year-long rigorous training in the Great Wilderness Heaven-tearing Hand.
"Roar!"
The desolate dragon's roar shook the clouds into a tumult, and the Flood Dragon's right claw swept down with a sharp whistle that seemed to tear through the void.
The claw mark was as black as ink, devouring even light in its path; the silver-net-like Sword Light shattered instantly, fragments of broken swords falling like kites with snapped strings.
A space fissure about ten feet wide cracked open in the clouds, revealing the turbulent gray airflow behind it, which was instantly smoothed out by the dragon breath the Flood Dragon exhaled.
