“Old man!”

The Storyteller shattered the space in the blink of an eye, and it was already too late to stop it.

 He could only watch helplessly as Cenjov actually held the black sword with his body.

 “Buzz!”

 Four swords shook violently again.

The black evil force divided into two groups and poured into Cenchofu's body.

 “Crazy, crazy...”

 The storyteller immediately realized that the power of this evil demon was anything but ordinary.

In the ancient book space, even if Xu Xiaoshou transformed into the second son of the holy slave, the level of sword intent he displayed was estimated to be less than one ten thousandth of what it is now!

 “Why did you go crazy all of a sudden?”

　　The storyteller was about to collapse. He covered his forehead with his hands and opened his mouth.

"Shut up!"

 Cenjov immediately shouted.

He didn't even bother drawing the sword, but had to pay extra attention to the storyteller's cry.

 “Open it for me...!”

After gritting his teeth, even though his right arm was completely soaked in black, Cenjov still did not give up and pulled the sword hilt upwards with all his strength.

 The sword leaves the ground.

What is disappointing is that the masked man is still hunched over and is lifted up.

"this……"

 Cenjov was dumbfounded.

How to do this?

 He directly stepped on his feet and pressed them against the leader's chest.

 “Offended!”

 “Bang!”

There was an explosion in the air, and the masked man's chest was kicked to pieces.

 The opposing forces finally allowed Cenchofu to draw out four swords.

"ah"

 The storyteller could hold it in no longer.

He looked at his brother's chest that had been kicked to pieces with tearful eyes, unable to stop the killing intent from the soul level.

 “Old man, I’ll kill you!”

“What are you going to do?” Cenjou held the sword tightly and pointed the tip of the sword at the storyteller. “If you mess around again, I’ll kill you first. Do you believe it?”

 “Ahhhh!”

 “Stop barking!”

"ah"

 “Poof!”

 “Ah? Brother, brother, have you thought about it?”

 The masked man finally woke up from the pain again.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he subconsciously covered his chest with his hands.

 But it covers up the loneliness.

 “No, no more?”

 The masked man looked down and froze on the spot.

Even though four swords pierced the chest just now, the wounds were not as big as this!

 The next second, he suddenly started to shudder.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

 The severe pain coming from his chest almost caused him to die on the spot.

 “What’s going on?” Cenjov had no intention of explaining. He held up the four swords that were trembling constantly, as if he wanted to return to the first one to draw nourishment, and asked aloud.

 “What’s going on, you still dare to ask?”

The storyteller roared, turned his head and made a bitter report to the masked man: "That's him. The wound on your chest was kicked out by this old man. I saw it with my own eyes."

"alright!"

The masked man waved his hands with difficulty, as if he didn’t intend to pursue the matter at all.

Under the intertwining combination of swords on the broken chest, he regained his mobility within a short while, supported the ground, and tried his best to stand up.

"what happened?"

 “Where did you bring this sword?”

Turning his head towards the storyteller, the masked man asked and put his fingers together in a familiar manner.

 “Tick-tock-tock…”

The evil power, as dark as ink, turned into droplets of black blood and was expelled from the sword finger.

 “People don’t know!”

 The storyteller was confused, "I didn't get this sword at all, it came with it on its own."

 “Follow yourself?”

 The masked man was stunned, "You didn't take it, and you're not an ancient sword cultivator. Why would it come with you?"

 “People...”

 The storyteller was asked.

yes!

 How come there are four swords following me? It's not...

“Who was holding the sword earlier?” The masked man narrowed his eyes.

 “Wen Ming!”

 The storyteller’s pupils dilated, as if he had thought of something.

“It was Wen Ming who held the sword, and he was also responsible for the explosion. He wanted to blow up the white cave and escape.”

"Yes, he controls this sword."

"He's here?"

 At this point in the question, the storyteller was stuck by his own speculation.

 What a joke!

 You're just a coward like Wen Ming who follows you even if you have a chance to escape from your own control but don't grasp it?

 What are you doing here?

 Come here to confront the three Saint Slaves?

 He has the guts?!

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　……’

 The masked man heard an unexpected name and confirmed: "Who knows?"

 “Who else knows it? It’s the one you’re talking about!” The storyteller’s voice was much louder.

 The masked man raised his brows: "Have you found him?"

"Um."

 The storyteller nodded, "Not only did he find him, he also fought with him. You didn't know that he was in the ancient book space before..."

 “Hey, I said!”

 Suddenly a weak voice interrupted from one side.

The two of them looked sideways and saw that Cenchofu's entire face was completely dark.

That slumped expression seemed like he was about to regain his composure and enter a violent state in the next second.

 “I said you two, have you forgotten something?” Cenjov gasped.

The masked man looked at the black sword that was still shaking wildly in his hand, and immediately smiled apologetically and said: "Sorry, sorry, I forgot about it, let it go."
To be continued...