It was just a few breaths.
The courtyard was in shambles.
More than twenty bisected corpses lay there.
Blood had dyed the entire ground red.
At the same time, the samurai in the surrounding troops who had been silently chanting spells
were now spitting blood, kneeling on one knee.
Their faces were ashen, their foreheads covered in large beads of cold sweat.
It must have been the backlash from the death of the corpses they controlled.
The only one left standing was Xiaoquan Jianlang, who held a long sword in his hands.
His eyes were devoid of any fear, dead and lifeless.
Yet the long sword in his grasp still glinted with a cold light.
"It seems the Corpse Control Skill of the Jiujui Sect isn't all that impressive,"
Lin Fan weighed the Qingfeng Sword in his hand.
His face bore a cold smile.
These guys might not fear death,
but their strength wasn't all that great.
If Zhao Jiaqi and Shangguan Ruofeng had been a bit more ruthless,
