A myriad of translucent water arrows, like a swarm of locusts, flew in. They were gathered by some force and shot towards Guanglie's side with blinding speed.,Left Guanglie's face remained unchanged. With both hands he pulled, and a flame blade materialized in his palm.,He was either lucky, but the word luck seemed so incongruous with him. His tattered clothes, his gaunt and sickly appearance, even his breath that seemed almost to drift away, all spoke of an unfortunate reality.。