Anger felt like the last ember on burned-out charcoal, turning to ashes and desolation.
The flash of the blade streaked by.
The vision of the gray wolf shattered.
Wen Jie's mouth uttered a piercing scream, an extremely shrill cry that pulled Yang Mu back to reality from his grievance, and he saw his always composed and elegant elder brother Wen Jie half-kneeling on the ground, large beads of sweat dripping from his well-maintained face.
The ground was splattered with a large amount of blood.
In front of him, an arm holding a longsword was still trembling slightly.
Yang Mu's eyes widened, his face flushed with excitement, and he clapped his hands and laughed, saying, "Good, good, good, so you have such an end too, good! Heaven has eyes! Hahaha..."
Just at this moment, the blade flashed again.
