The sea wind freezes, the sound of waves stops.
Accompanied by the young man's gentle words, the world seems to pause for a moment.
Not really a declaration, nor an announcement, yet so decisive.
As if reiterating eternal truths.
What Luobomo personally experiences is an unprecedented terrifying pressure.
A stern chill rises from the Blade of Li Hen, spreading silently, as the Mystic Form re-emerges from the screams. Thus, the chest feels a hallucination-like pain, as if trapped in an ice pit.
"You really dare to speak, you little brat."
He chuckles softly, yet the hilt in his hand creaks with the tight grip, almost crushed in furious rage.
Not arrogant, nor insane, but truly from the heart believing he can and must kill the enemy in front of him.
It is precisely this pure determination, almost flawless, that infuriates the swordsman of Xing Jiao!
"Then come!"
