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The king’s gesture was unmistakably deliberate. He was clearly only a phantom, and yet for that split second, he seemed to possess awareness, almost as if he had chosen to look.
That glance nearly pierced two hundred years of time.
Down below, a man and a tiger were locked in a vicious fight. He Lingchuan did not have the leisure to look up. If their eyes met, he would have probably felt the kind of chill that crawled all the way down your spine.
The King of Yuān’s gaze seemed to carry weight, as well as meaning.
However, the anomaly on the battlements lasted only an instant, gone as quickly as a white horse flashing past a crack in the wall. The very next moment, the King of Yuān still slit his own throat, and history continued down its original track. Nothing changed.
In the real fight, Uncle Da retreated the moment his vision was obstructed.
It was pure battle instinct, honed over endless years, and in that critical moment, it saved his life. Because the instant He Lingchuan lifted his blade and flared moonlight into the tiger’s eyes, he followed with a vicious, razor-edged diagonal cleave!
He had been on defense for a long time. He had been storing that strike for a long time. When he finally released it, it came down like a river of stars pouring from...
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