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"Move aside!"
Qin Sang swept his cold gaze over the surrounding soldiers. Though he had not a drop of blood on him, in their eyes, he appeared no different from a fearsome devilish cultivator.
As he took a step forward, before any general could issue an order, the soldiers automatically parted like a receding tide, clearing a path. They looked at Qin Sang with faces full of awe; none dared to block his way.
Qin Sang seized a horse and, under the watchful eyes of everyone, galloped straight toward the city gates.
Back at the marquis' residence, the newly replaced plaque had been pierced by a long sword, with the heir's corpse hanging from it, swaying slightly. A pool of blood had gathered on the steps, glaringly red.
Gallop, gallop…
Riding swiftly through the streets, Qin Sang soon reached the imperial capital’s city gates, where he saw Wu Chuanzong...
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