As that sword strike descended, all members of the Ice Clan believed the outcome was sealed—Meng Qing was certain to die.
But what they did not notice was that from the beginning to present, Meng Qing's demeanor had never changed, still cold, still composed.
"Meng Haoge, you are truly pitiable!"
Just as the sword's light was about to completely devour Meng Qing, suddenly, a mocking voice sounded, like a whisper from the underworld, sending shivers across the land.
At that moment, in an expression of disbelief on everyone's faces, the space and time around Meng Qing froze, with air molecules segmenting and condensing into blue ice flowers.
The blue ice flowers were extremely beautiful, falling continuously and gathering behind Meng Qing.
Gradually accumulating, the blue ice flowers continued to cluster, layer, and reassemble, slowly taking the shape of a pair of wings.
Ice-blue wings!
"What is that?"
"Wings?"
The crowd was astonished, even more mesmerized.
