"Mo Wangchen... you!"
In the distant sky, Dong Yunjing, the senior disciple of Xingyun Pavilion, had eyes full of fear.
All the powerful forces gathered today in Nanyang City, except for him, had completely fallen, without exception.
At this moment, Mo Wangchen stood like a god of death, holding the Divine Bow, his clothes fluttering, blood staining his body.
"Mo Wangchen, you're doomed! The Sacred Lands and the Ancient Martial aristocratic families will never let you go!"
Such decisive slaughter, slaying more than twenty people, all experts from major sects and families; once the news spread, these forces would certainly not let it rest.
"I don't know if they will let me go, but as for you, I definitely won't let you go..."
Mo Wangchen's eyes were cold. Though separated by a great distance, the killing intent in his gaze made Dong Yunjing in the distant sky feel a chill in his heart.
"Swish!"
