Ye Qiu's figure flickered, like a mass of black smoke, moving at an incredible speed, impossible to capture.
The next second, he was in front of an emperor's son. Those cold eyes emitted a pitch-black glare, completely devoid of whites. Ye Qiu's current state was somewhat different from his usual blackened state.
The killing intent in his heart enveloped the surroundings, transforming into many faces. Those faces were of people who had once died by Ye Qiu's hand, now appearing like fierce ghosts, with ghastly fangs, constantly struggling, trying to break free from the quagmire-like black aura around Ye Qiu to gain freedom.
Whish.
Ye Qiu's hand, like a wolf's claw, fiercely grabbed the emperor's son, tightly constricting his neck.
This emperor's son, who was laughing earlier, preparing to use Ye Qiu's head as a chamber pot, now had eyes full of terror. He never expected that facing Ye Qiu, he wouldn't even be able to evade.
