Chang Wudao shot them an indifferent glance. With a single flick of his sleeve, the two were sent flying backward, their fate unknown after they crashed to the ground.
"Who did this?" After venting a fraction of his inner fury, Chang Wudao looked at Li Tiancheng and asked, his voice cold and his expression unreadable.
Li Tiancheng's heart went cold. From what he knew of Chang Wudao, this was merely the calm before the storm.
Chang Wudao had his son late in life and had always doted on him endlessly. Now that the boy had perished in the Secret Realm, a bloodbath was sure to follow.
"Reporting to you, Martial Uncle, the one who killed Tianhua was Song Changsheng. He's Song Xianming's grandson."
"Song Changsheng? The same one who injured my Hua'er before?" A surging killing intent filled Chang Wudao's eyes. A formidable aura erupted from him, making Li Tiancheng's chest feel tight and oppressed.
"The very same," Li Tiancheng hastily replied.
