Slap!
Slap!
The sound of footsteps still resonated.
Fang Yang stepped in the rain, calmly and deliberately walking towards the paper umbrella lady, his expression serene and indifferent. Closer and closer he came.
The paper umbrella lady saw that chilling demeanor, and perhaps those eyes as deep as an abyss.
She truly felt fear, the first time since she had set foot in Chang'an.
"No! Impossible, absolutely impossible!"
"Merely a human race, trampled underfoot by our Ming Clan hundreds of years ago. How could they possibly stand against us?!"
She bellowed madly, her face twisted ferociously.
Then, gripping the paper umbrella in her hand tightly, she fiercely shook it.
In an instant, countless paper umbrellas descended from the sky.
Each one radiated a coquettish red glow, and blood flowed down from the umbrellas along their ribs.
Drip-drop!
Drip-drop!
The world seemed to turn a brilliant red.
