The front of the vast Qionghua Hall was akin to the top floor of Wenyuan Pavilion.
The senior figures of Qionghua and the hundred-plus core disciples were all deathly silent, while Bai Fan and others beside the venue watched with their eyes about to crack open in anger.
In the center of the venue, a white-robed, languid man, under the gaze of the crowd, casually flicked his longsword, and fresh blood was immediately flung onto the ground.
Grasping the sword,
The man nonchalantly glanced at the hundred-plus core disciples beside the venue, his narrow, squinted eyes seemingly laughing.
Moving slowly and deliberately, he looked around, then chuckled and cupped one hand in the other before the severed corpse of Brother Li, saying with a light laugh,
"Brother Li, thank you for letting me win."
"....."
In the face of such humiliation, all the disciples in the venue couldn't help but clench their fists tightly, but the white-robed man didn't care and turned to leave.
