So Lu Zheng charged forward, shouting, "Madam, withdraw your peach blossoms, let me first test his prowess."
"Young Master, be careful!"
"Do you really think I'm afraid of you?"
Shen Ying formed a hand seal, and the chaotic swirling peach blossoms opened a path.
Lu Zheng also saw the true form of the Cyan Robe Ghost.
A square face, complexion ashen, eyes emitting faint black light, with a sinister grin at the corners of his mouth.
His form seemed both solid and illusory, and though his large sleeves covered most of his hands, they couldn't hide the one-foot-long ashen black nails on his fingers.
"That 'Eighteen Mountain-Carrying Techniques' was stolen from me by that scoundrel, Martial Artist's Blood Qi doesn't restrain Netherworld Ghosts, pretty boy, you still want to test my prowess?"
The Cyan Robe Ghost shrieked, seeing Lu Zheng charging straight at him, he too made a move to pounce, flying directly to meet him.
