"No!"

Seeing Flaming Qilin having been cut in half at the waist, Yan Wushuang roared out. His eyes were scarlet, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. His voice made people feel pity.

Flaming Qilin had never been so weak. It was hard for him to speak.

The eyes of the Immortal Masters of the Winged race, the Draconian race, and the others lit up. They raised their hands and sucked in Kylin's blood which had not yet landed on the ground. Then, they ...