Han Hexiang quickly pinched the spell, as if communicating with some mysterious force between heaven and earth.
As the spiritual power surged within him, a dazzling light erupted from his palm, lighting up the surrounding darkness like a rising sun.
Immediately, an ancient and sharp flying sword appeared out of thin air, with a faint spiritual light flowing over its blade, hovering steadily beneath his feet as if it were alive.
"Rise!"
Han Hexiang uttered softly, and the flying sword seemed to understand his command, lifting everyone into the air.
Like an arrow released from a bowstring, they tore through the sky, racing towards the Biluo Immortal Continent in the north.
On the longsword, each person's eyes revealed a look of anticipation and awe.
Anticipation to reach the Biluo Immortal Continent as soon as possible.
Awe, because the devastated land below presented a shocking sight.
Compared to the dangers at night.
