Blood splattered, flesh burst, and Chen Shan was blown into a mist of blood. His blood soared high, showering down on that last piece of White Silk that had yet to be stained red.
At this moment, the entire Chen Family's old mansion was draped in red silk and bedecked with crimson flowers, appearing as if they were celebrating the birthday of the one being honored at the feast—only the red was dyed by the blood of the host.
One by one, the members of the Chen Family hung on the red threads were stunned. Chen Zian stared incredulously at the bloodstained ground, disbelief coloring his eyes.
If it were before, he could never have imagined that Chen Shan—the one who called himself the Celestial Dao and held the life of the entire Chen Family like a deity—would die in such a manner.
Every plan they made was seen through, every tactic discerned, and all their efforts seemed like ants playing at Chen Shan's fingertips.
