A cold wind arose under the overcast sky. It seemed another snowfall was on its way.
In the Wang Family's front courtyard, countless people felt a bone-chilling cold rush toward them, making even breathing difficult. It made their limbs stiffen involuntarily.
As everyone watched, Gu Feiyang reached up to touch his cheek, hissing as his fingers came away with a streak of blood. The cut was as fine as a strand of hair, but the sight was unbelievable.
Who is he? The Yong Master of the prestigious Biluo Sword Valley was actually wounded by a single sword strike?
The crowd wondered if it was because Chen Yang's skill was insufficient that he had only managed a scratch. Or perhaps... it was only a warning. A powerful, resolute reply to Gu Feiyang's arrogant words.
