Just like before a hurricane approaches on the sea.
The air around him became condensed, as if it had stopped flowing.
The small animals that were originally chirping in the surrounding wilderness and woods seemed to have all hibernated at this time, and no sound could be heard.
Dead silence.
Yang Zimei now deeply understands this word.
She asked Huo Wenhua to stay inside and not move around, opened the driver's door and walked out.
The crimson Moye Sword was tightly held in her hand, trembling slightly with her nervousness and making a low chirping sound.
The small iron tower on the left hand is also changing color slightly, and it seems that it can also feel the changes around it.
A black cloud began to roll out from the mountain col a hundred meters ahead.
The clouds were very thick, like a big black mushroom, rolling in the direction of Yang Zimei.
No matter how good Yang Zimei's eyesight was, he still couldn't clearly see what was inside the black clouds.
Wouldn't the God of Death be in the form of a black cloud?
Yang Zimei thought doubtfully, her heartstrings began to tighten, and the palm of her hand holding the sword became slightly sweaty.
The distance is about thirty meters.
The black cloud suddenly changed...
A man wearing a black long-sleeved robe slowly walked out of the black clouds with empty steps. His black hair that reached his heels rose up without the wind and floated freely behind him, giving people a sense of place.
A strong visual effect.
Compared with his black robe, his hand that looked particularly white held a black sickle.
The black air wrapped around the sickle was so thick that it seemed that it could not be dissipated in a thousand years.
Most of his face, which was previously covered by long hair, was suddenly exposed.
Seeing the pale jade face that was as handsome as if carved with a knife, Yang Zimei's original guard was instantly lifted, and her nervousness turned into joy.
"Xuehu, is that you?"
The Moye Sword in her hand hung down, she stepped forward quickly and called out softly.
The man in black robe looked down at her...
Seeing his pupils, Yang Zimei was slightly surprised.
The pupil of one of his eyes exposed outside his long hair was darker than the sickle in his hand. It was so black that it was as black as a black hole, trying to swallow up everything in the world.
Snow Lake's eyes are not like this.
His eyes are clear and translucent.
However, the exposed half of the face is exactly the same as Xue Hu.
"Snow Lake?"
She tried again and asked in a low voice.
The man in black robe raised the sickle in his hand and said, "Whoever blocks the god of death! Die!"
His voice was completely unlike the gentle and cool sound of nature in Snow Lake. Instead, it sounded like frosted metal, low, hoarse and cold, as if it came from the eighteenth level of hell, making people shudder.
Yang Zimei is quite courageous, but when he heard this voice, he couldn't help but get goosebumps and a chill down his spine.
grim Reaper?
Not Snow Lake?
Why does it look so similar to Snow Lake?
Her Moye Sword, which had been hanging down, was raised again.
The aura of this god of death was extremely powerful, and its magic power was beyond her imagination.
She knew that she was no match for him.
But I also know that Death has its own rules.
The sickle in his hand is used to harvest souls, but it cannot be harvested at will.
Seeing her raising the Moye Sword, the sickle in Death's hand moved slightly. Before she could react, the Moye Sword in her hand instantly fell to the ground, making a clanking sound in dissatisfaction...
Yang Zimei looked at the palm of his hand.
Before Moye Sword fell from her hand, she didn't even feel any external force.
The sword suddenly seemed to become empty and fell to the ground.
