Rafael Worley was terrified as he said hoarsely, "A cold sword is not stained with the blood of the innocent. May I ask, Your Highness, what crime have I committed?"
Swoosh!
The cold sword in Braydon Neal's hand stopped in mid-air, only three centimeters away from Rafael's neck.
Rafael broke out in cold sweat. Braydon was too fast, and he couldn't react in time.
He quickly retreated, trying to put a safe distance between him and Braydon.
Braydon looked at him calmly and said softly, "Old thing, how can you be considered innocent?!"
Swoosh!
Braydon looked like he was standing still, but in reality, he was just an afterimage.
With the Northern King Sword in hand, he appeared behind Rafael and slashed his neck.
His head flew up!
Rafael's eyes were filled with unwillingness, shock, and anger. He did not expect to die so miserably.
Then, endless darkness enveloped his consciousness, and he died on the spot.
