When he heard Su Yi’s words, Situ Gong’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his cold, bloodthirsty aura intensified.

The young man in the indigo shirt, Li Gui, shuddered. His heart surged with irrepressible terror.

The imposing aura of a Xiantian Martial Ancestor was unquestionably terrifying, to the point that they felt the urge to flee for their lives.

The golden-robed man beside him felt much the same; terror and uncertainty were written all over his face.

Miss Xiaohe pursed her lips, but she was much calmer by comparison. Her bright eyes stared at Su Yi with immense curiosity; it seemed she wanted to know just who this young man who dared face down the Bloody Butcher Knife was. 

Throughout the hall, the atmosphere was tense and oppressive.

After a moment of silence, Situ Gong burst into laughter, his gaze deep and solemn.

“I won’t lie to you; we, too, are here to seize your good fortune. But we’re different from the others: we’d like to gamble with you.”

Su Yi took a sip of wine, then put the gourd away and asked with great interest, “What do you mean?”

Situ Gong said, “I’m here with my friends, four in total. All of us have climbed over a mountain of corpses and emerged from a sea of blood. Yet all...