Atop the peak of Inner Valley in Pharmacist Valley, clouds and mist stretched endlessly.
Leng Che's murderous aura silently spread between the gazes of the people, fragmenting into invisible shards of ice. Whether it was the green-clothed disciples holding powerful crossbows or the black-clothed assassins wearing masks, everyone had heightened their attention to the utmost.
Kill,
or be killed.
Die,
or survive upon the blood and flesh of others.
In the Jianghu, the bloodiest and most barefaced aspect was confronting head-on right here. Even if they were merely pieces about to clash in battle, who would care about a young man who had lost his wits?
Besides, that young man would soon become a cold, lifeless body.
Who would care for a dead person?