After returning home, He Lingchuan took a God-killing Pill and then went to the back mountain to practice swordsmanship.

He Lingchuan had already taken two of the God-killing Pills that A Luo had refined from the Emperor's Liquid. Of course, A Luo was not as reckless as he was at the Sanxin Lake. Instead, he made three pills of the Spiritual Liquid and told him to take them every six hours.

Only take one pill.

The one he swallowed now was the last one.

He Lingchuan has discovered that the best way to refine spiritual essence in the Panlong World and improve his cultivation is not to meditate and adjust his breath, but to polish his body and practice martial arts.

After all, the two worlds of reality and reality are somewhat different.

The mountains and fields were quiet, and there was no one in the forest. He gradually got carried away with his practice, and at some point a vague white air appeared around his body.

Daogang has taken shape.

With his energy and spirit at the peak, he suddenly struck out with a wave of slashes.

There was no sound when the sword was drawn, but the light was like water, and the forest five feet away made a sudden roar, like a hurricane blowing through.

After two breaths, the branches and leaves fell.

After a few more breaths, more than twenty trees as thick as a bowl fell down.

He Lingchuan's sword was slashed flatly, and all the plants in the five-foot fan-shaped area in front of him, from shrubs to trees, were beheaded!

Neatly, as if measured with a ruler.

This style came from Lang Zhan and was never taught to Panlongcheng. It was He Lingchuan who realized it by himself and it was completely natural.

When he was about to raise the knife again, he realized something in his heart, and all his energy and blood suddenly surged to his head.

He Lingchuan's movements suddenly stopped, and he secretly said, "It's finally here."
Chapter completed!