What remained was the perception of aura; his years of accumulated experience in slaughter came into full play at this moment.
Pat.
He slightly lowered his head, his playful smirk intensifying as his teeth flashed a ghastly white.
The clearly defined pale hand struck fiercely, stopping less than three inches from his face, the palm wind shattering his silver helmet, sending his hair into a wild dance.
General Dao Hai seemed to coincidentally reach out his hand, landing it on a wrist.
"You, are too slow."
The instant he spoke, all the figures in ink robes around him vanished.
"..."
Wei Yuanzhou looked down from above, the smile at the corner of his lips disappearing, a hint of coldness appearing on his extraordinary face.
The light between his brows twinkled.
The Sect Master of the Nan Hong Seven Sons, outside, must not be humiliated.
However, at that moment, he raised his eyebrows slightly, and the light at his brow slowly dissipated.
