A flute suddenly rang out on the top of the peak.
The wind and rain went mute.
The air coming out from the holes of the flute were all sword wills, and they blocked Zhao Layue's incoming palm squarely.
In the next moment, more sword wills emerged from the bone flute, hacking at Zhao Layue.
Innumerable crisp sword sounds rang out.
Neither the Immortal Taiping nor Zhao Layue used a sword; but it seemed as if countless flying swords were clashing with each other.
A dozen cracks appeared on Zhao Layue's body instantly.
The fresh blood didn't have enough time to seep out from those wounds yet.
The locks of black hair cut off by the sword wills were still drifting in front of her eyes.
She should be near her death at the moment.
Yet, it was worth it, she thought. The swordsmen of Green Mountain attained a chance for her to get inside the formation; and now it was her turn to gain a chance for Jing Jiu.