"Evil dragon, evil dragon..." the old man muttered to himself, his mind no longer clear.
Actually, Lin Su had run too early. The evil dragon in the river roared and thrashed, not because it wanted to kill him, but because it had suffered a fatal wound.
Lin Su's seven-colored battle poem had injured it, but only slightly.
However, this battle poem had another effect: the ten thousand killing intent it carried destroyed its domain, shattered its magic field. Zhang Yiyu seized the opportunity, striking with all her might, the strings of her zither transforming into a sword, piercing its head and plucking its demon core!
With its demon core gone, the evil dragon was doomed; its final struggle was merely a death throes.
Zhang Yiyu collected the demon core, stepped onto the still-thrashing
