Seeing this, the crowd surged forward, eager to snatch it away.
But Lin Fan leaped up and seized the Purple Nether Sword. In the next instant, a faint purple aura swirled around it. While still in mid-air, Lin Fan suddenly thrust the sword out. His body and the blade moved as one, like a streak of purple light cutting across the sky.
In an instant, wherever the blade's edge passed, four or five figures collapsed, clutching their throats.
Even more unexpectedly, the corpses' faces turned purple and their lips black. They had clearly been struck by a deadly, fast-acting poison that killed upon contact with blood.
Fang Lingxin's lips had been trembling with anger at Lin Fan's words. She was utterly bewildered. 'What has gotten into Lin Fan?'
She thought that while they might not have been the closest, they were still friends. How could he say they had nothing to do with each other?
But seeing the scene before her now, her pupils couldn't help but contract.
