The onlookers felt a chill rush from the soles of their feet up to the Niwan Palace in their heads as they saw Long Zhengye lying under Ye Long's feet, dying with his eyes wide open—all of their limbs turned cold!
Not far away, Leng Zhenyu's bruised face twitched suddenly, feeling a sense of sorrow for the fallen, akin to the saying "the hare dies, the fox grieves." Considering that Long Zhengye had been a figure who stirred the winds and clouds in Huaxia and held a high-status existence.
Now, in just the blink of an eye, it was life and death, vast and unknown; all the fortunes and glories vanished like smoke. And all this was because of the young man in front of them named Ling Fan.
For the first time, Leng Zhenyu cowered, wilted, and felt fear.
He quietly stood to one side, hoping that from now on, Ling Fan would never notice him again!
