Zhao Chi's mouth suddenly felt heavy. He couldn't open it.
'What kind of Spiritual Technique is this?'
The rebel soldier reeled Zhao Chi in like a kite, pulling him closer to the edge of the battlefield.
Zhao Chi had a great view from the air and could clearly see Zhao Quan's battle.
The battlefield was littered with fallen Black Armored Soldiers, their organs scattered about haphazardly.
In the distance lay the beheaded Zhao Mu.
A rebel pointed at Zhao Mu's corpse and cursed at another, "You motherfucker, I told you guys not to kill them! Do you have any idea how much we can squeeze out of a noble? And you just had to go and kill him."
"Sorry, Captain..."
"Sorry my ass! Just you wait, I'll deal with you later. This is fucking bullshit!"
"Captain, I've captured Zhao Chi."
"Zhao Chi? Which noble is that?"
"Not a noble. He's the one who came in first in the recent competition."
"Shit! He's just a Junior Lord. What damn use is he? Toss him aside."
