As his voice faded, Hei Dalong let out a cold snort.
With a slight flick of his finger, a sharp and faint whistle of wind swept through the air.
By now, Zhang Ziyan had become extremely guarded against Hei Dalong, constantly watching his every move.
Seeing him flick his finger, Zhang Ziyan thought back to the third move, Force Splitting Hua Mountain, and the sudden snapping of the blade.
He shouted, "Eldest Young Master Hei, spare the man!"
But it was too late.
The brother who had just cursed Hei Dalong suddenly furrowed his brows.
He twisted his neck, "Hmm, something feels off."
Then, with immense shock, his eyes widened.
His vision spun wildly, not only seeing the sky but also his body.
Yet his body was without a head, only blood spurting out continuously.
The last sight this world granted him was his own headless body.
With a thud, he fell to his knees on the ground.
Both Zhang Ziyan and his few brothers cried out in heartrending agony.
