Puchi!
In mid-air, Yuan Wuming's severed left palm, which had been slapped at the blade light, suddenly flashed a line of blood. In the eyes of tens of thousands who were shocked, his left palm was severed at the base, blood spilled through the sky.
"Die for me!"
Yuan Wuming's left palm was severed by a single slash, his face contorted sharply into a hideous snarl. At this moment, a sudden surge of fear rose within him; Li Feiyu in front of him could sever his palm with Seventh-Grade strength, he must not be spared. Yuan Wuming decided to trade injury for life, aiming to kill with his slash.
This slash tore through the skies emitting a series of piercing, harsh whistles, akin to a scene of firecrackers ignited on the field. Before the blade arrived, the pool of blood on the ground already splashed half a meter high under the heavy pressure, as if rising into several walls of blood.
