A shrill, frightened, and urgent voice called out, "Protect the lord!"
'Lord' was a term of respect, and the person that could be addressed so respectfully on this mountain path was naturally Chen Changsheng. Those cultivators were unable to deal with the snowflakes falling from the sky, but they still rushed to get in front of Chen Changsheng. Even Zhong Hui with his cold face rushed over with his sword. For a moment, the mountain path was filled with the sound of people flying through the wind…and then came the sounds of clothes and flesh being cut open!
The thin snowflakes were like the sharpest divine weapons, cutting open everything they encountered!
The mountain path was sprinkled with blood that froze into deep-red beads of ice that rolled all over the place.
The cultivators stood in front of Chen Changsheng, carrying both heavy and light injuries. No one had died, but their bravery was gradually fading away.