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“To think you’re so ruthless at your age, Ye Qing! You must die to secure peace for the wulin!”
A man appeared in front of Ye Qing like a ghost and unleashed a palm strike.
“Smite!”
The man’s palm turned as white as jade. It was translucent, warm, and perfectly flawless.
Boom!
But right before his hand would hit Ye Qing’s skull, a long saber descended toward the man’s head. He was forced to cancel his attack and block the sudden attack with his palm.
His palm should be made of flesh and blood, and yet there was a metallic clang when it clashed against the saber. There was a shockwave as the two men backed a step away from each other.
“Who are you? Why are you stopping me?” The man withdrew his palm and stared at Pang Kun with a deep frown.
Of course, no one recognized Pang Kun because he was wearing a mask right now.
“Ye Qing killed my nephew, so I must take his life with my own hands,” Pang Kun made up a random excuse. “I would advise you to stay out of this, Fang Baiyu.”
Pang Kun was accompanied by eighteen armored soldiers. As if on cue, they took a step forward and assumed what looked like a formation.
The eighteen soldiers were Black Feather Guard soldiers,...
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