Those present on the scene saw no one, not a soul, observed how Ye Weiming made his move, yet the interventionist Golden Soldier, who had dared to step within three meters of the house, was indeed already dead.
Directly above the corpse, a sword of archaic design but with exceptional sharpness hung suspended, as if it had just been forged not long ago. The blade pointed toward a group of Golden Soldiers, appearing ready to shoot out at any moment and claim their lives.
And there was Ye Weiming, from beginning to end, his eyes steady and unaffected, his tone calm and without ripples; juxtaposed with the corpse on the ground, and the floating Treasure Sword above the corpse, it produced an immeasurable and unfathomable sensation.
To Jiu Jin Wine, who had just arrived and now stood quietly atop the surrounding wall, secretly observing the situation within the courtyard, he could not help but admire inwardly.
