Su Yu stared at the saint of thieves and said coldly, “So much nonsense. Are You Saying Your Last Words?”
Another ancestral spell condensed in his palm, and a faint claw mark could be seen floating around.
The Saint of thieves shook his head. “I’m just saying that I stole from the wrong person. It doesn’t mean that I have to fear you.”
His fresh clothes fluttered, and a layer of golden light covered his body, vaguely resembling a Buddhist kasaya.
As his five fingers twirled, a sharp and clear scar appeared.
In terms of strength, Su Yu was not as strong as the scar.
His opponent’s cultivation had reached the great sage level. If they were to fight, it would be hard to say who would win.
The thieving sage said, “I thought that you were a member of the famous sword Saint tribe, so I stole the heaven-destroying sword from you. I didn’t expect that the heaven-destroying sword would fall into the hands of an outsider.”
