The remaining men, faces pale as paper, retreated in fear, step by step.
Even though they had experienced numerous life-and-death situations, the sight of such brutal killing methods shattered their hearts, and they had already lost the battle in spirit. They were like facing the death god emerging from hell, utterly powerless to resist.
Third Young Master Jun gave them no chance to react. His cold and eerie eyes darkened as he moved like a phantom, rushing among them in the blink of an eye.
Raising both hands, the sharp glass traced splendid arcs of light, each one accompanied by the scattering of blood and screams.
Soon, even the last man, with a gaze filled with extreme terror, unwillingly fell atop his comrades' corpses, blood freshly warm, flowing on the ground, pooling into a bright red river. Yet the heart in his chest, which had been terrified, would beat no more.
Third Young Master Jun indifferently dropped the blood-dripping glass at his feet.
