Wu Zhihan, who injured Jun Moyan, found herself in a worse situation than Jun Moyan.
Her nails stained with Jun Moyan’s fresh blood were even more crimson and sensuous, yet each fingertip radiated a heart-wrenching pain.
Soon, the pain spread from the fingertips, first to the fingers, then the whole palm, arm, the entire limb...
She couldn’t even withstand a single attack from the man.
Beaten so badly by the man that she couldn’t retaliate at all.
Wu Zhihan stared in fear at her arm, which was so painful it was immobilized—a limb she wished she could sever.
Then she looked up at Jun Moyan in disbelief, overwhelmed by a crushing terror.
Who was he, who truly was he?
In the moment Wu Zhihan hesitated, Wen Xiao’ai had already reached her, and a flash of purple light cut through.
Wu Zhihan’s entire arm, which had injured Jun Moyan, was severed by the purple light and fell to the ground.
Before she could scream, the man’s figure followed closely behind Wen Xiao’ai.
The man transformed into a black sword the moment he reached Wu Zhihan, piercing directly through her body.
Wen Xiao’ai took the opportunity to slam the palm bearing the Ghost-suppressing Blood Talisman against the back of Wu Zhihan’s head.
Wu Zhihan screamed upwards, unwilling, with a pair of grieving eyes.
The scream was piercing and echoed long and continuous.
Her body shattered instantly like glass, breaking into thousands of pieces.
Wen Xiao’ai and the man fell to the ground in disarray, glancing at Wu Zhihan who continued to scream in mid-air.
Finally, Wu Zhihan was reduced to ashes, leaving behind a pool of black, sticky substance, disappearing from this world.
Her unwilling scream seemed to still echo.
Everything gradually returned to calm.
The fierce battle was finally over.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
The man sat on the ground, his body trembling, having nearly exhausted his Vital Energy.
He inadvertently glanced at the pool of black muck that Wu Zhihan left behind, resembling fresh blood.
He saw a faint layer of black smoke hovering over the pool of muck.
The man squinted his eyes slightly, closely observing the black smoke, trying to make it out clearly, but being somewhat far away and it being night, it was hard to discern.
He reached out, drawing in the strand of black smoke that clearly didn’t belong to Wu Zhihan.
The black smoke wafted around in his palm, and as the man watched it, a moment later his eyes erupted with annihilating, deadly intent.
He stared at the black smoke in his hand, so angry that his hands trembled.
He fiercely clenched his hand, extinguishing the wisp of black smoke within it.
His teeth ground loudly.
The man suppressed all his emotions, struggling to stand up, and just wanted to assist Wen Xiao’ai.
When he saw Jun Moyan already helping her up.
And after Wen Xiao’ai got up, she embraced Jun Moyan...
The man stood there, foolishly watching the two holding each other, all his physical wounds paled in comparison to the pain in his heart. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
Unprecedented sadness and heartbreak.
Watching helplessly as the woman he loved showed care and affection for his enemy, throwing herself into their embrace—there truly was nothing more tragic and laughable, more heart-wrenching than this.
He stood there in his black robe, a desolate and unapproachable figure that stirred sympathy.
Even without removing that mask, it’s easy to imagine the melancholy and the deep-seated hurt and bitterness in his eyes at this moment.
In his black attire, he was actually also covered in blood, but no one saw...
"...Brother, are you alright?"
The young man gathered his courage and approached to ask.
The man turned his gaze and looked at the young boy.