"Whoosh."
He casually threw it.
Murakami Hideyoshi's corpse, like a lump of mud, was thrown into a deep pit, tumbling down, and lay face up in a pool of blood, eyes wide open in death.
It was under everyone's astonished gaze that Pei Jinye calmly looked towards the killers from Palace Ji.
"Are you not kneeling to beg for mercy?"
...
"Dead, dead?"
"Lord Murakami Hideyoshi is dead..."
"This... this is absolutely impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
The Seventh of the Twelve Star Generals, a Quasi-Third-Level master, was beaten to death alive, and with fists no less!
It was then.
Zhao master finally arrived with support.
The killers from Palace Ji didn't have time to commit suicide by poison before their jaws were dislocated, and they became like fish on a chopping board.
...
"Are you alright?" Zhao master looked towards Pei Jinye.
Pei Jinye coughed out blood, yet he waved his hand: "It's nothing."
