Pei Yan suddenly let out a low, sorrowful laugh.
"The youngest Zhi Ming was just a youth when a flood dragon's claw pierced his chest... yet he was still swinging his sword."
Xu Yunfan remained silent. He understood, of course, that the man's spirit was utterly broken.
'How tragic.'
'One wrong move, and the entire game was lost.'
The twilight was the color of blood. Pei Yan dug his knuckles deep into a fissure in the rock.
The afterimages of Xu Yunfan practicing his Hammer Technique were a jarring blur. Amidst the piercing shriek of the Heavy Hammer tearing through the air, Pei Yan seemed to hear the cracking of bones as the ninety disciples of the Sword Pavilion fell into the flood dragon's maw.
Nearby, Qi Huan sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. The faint wisps of Demon Qi rising from his body only made Pei Yan's heart grow more anxious.
