Not far from Yang Zhong, on a Blood Tree, there was another young figure standing upon the trunk. He was dressed in black samurai gear, with a Black Iron Greatsword strapped to his back. Staring in the direction where Shi Feng had departed, his face was filled with ferocity, and his eyes brimmed with murderous light, radiating hatred. Then, he glanced at his left wrist, which was now empty and void of the hand that once was there.
Yang Zhong had long since noticed the existence of that young Martial Artist. When he turned to look at the young Martial Artist, the latter was also looking back at him. Instantly, both of their figures flashed and disappeared from the spot.
...
