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Chai Beitong knelt on the ground.
The golden-robed middle-aged man had parted ways with his head. His body lay on its back in a pool of blood.
Lu Shangxiu’s Natal Dao Sword had been destroyed, and her beautiful face was pallid.
All that remained of that older-generation cultivator was his soul.
When Su Yi’s light, airy, yet tyrannical voice echoed throughout the hall, the atmosphere was instantly incomparably stifled.
Those qualified to attend this banquet were either wealthy or noble. Pick any one of them at random, and they were sure to have titles and origins sufficient to intimidate the masses.
Yet now, all of them were silent. They instinctively looked at the man in the centermost seat, Hua Xingchen.
Hua Xingchen’s expression darkened, and his hawk-like eyes bore into Su Yi for a while before he finally broke the oppressive silence.
“This was a misunderstanding,” Hua Xingchen said expressionlessly. “If you’d like, I can explain it to you.”
Xue Hongfeng almost couldn’t help but laugh. A misunderstanding? Only someone like you could say something so shameless!
Su Yi’s response was quite simple. He took a sudden step forward, arrived in front...
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