"Are you stupid? How can a dead person speak?" Han Yan looked at the man with eyes as if he were looking at an idiot, then his smile on his face was like a gentle spring breeze, his tone even more indifferent as he spoke. He forcefully stirred his longsword in his hand, then slowly around in a circle before pausing.
"Crack, crack..." As the blood spurted, the sound of the sword scraping against the bone rang in the ears of Huayue and the others. The sharp sound pierced their eardrums, chilling them to the core.
Han Yan kept smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
The middle-aged man's screams almost broke the eardrums of everyone present, painfully piercing through.
Meanwhile, Han Yan maintained a harmlessly warm smile and didn't wait for the man to respond, again stabbed one sword after another into the middle-aged man's calf, stirring again. The sound of the longsword scraping against the bone chillingly echoed once more.
