“What are those?” Mo Yi knitted her graceful brows together and gestured at the cloud of flies obscuring the sky.

“Corpse flies. We stopped the undead hag and the bloodcorpses, but those things came out to play instead,” Lu Yun said with a rueful smile, resignation in his eyes. He sagged weakly to the ground, hugging Qing Han tightly.

“Corpse flies?” Mo Yi’s face fell as her consciousness studied the creatures zipping in the sky. She soared into the air and summoned a sword with a flick of the hands.

“Brightstar Snowrend—” she enunciated gently.

Whoosh— 

Terrible sword brilliance rained down over the ruins of the mountain like a tempest of snow, mincing the bugs the moment they emerged from the mountain. They had formed a considerable swarm, but each one was only equivalent to a core realm cultivator. For an august immortal like Mo Yi, they may as well have been ants. 

Mo Yi was also far from being an ordinary august immortal.

“Brightstar Snowred, the most lethal of the Seven Stars Formations of the ancient world.” Leaning against Lu Yun’s chest, disbelief colored Qing Han’s eyes as he watched sword qi flutter down like snowflakes. “She turned the sword formation into her own combat...