Bam!
In the night, a corpse fell heavily to the ground, like the closing note of a song of slaughter.
The night wind swept through, carrying fallen leaves, yet unable to disperse the thick scent of blood.
"... "
Azanmu's gaze shifted from the longsword in Xu Fan's hand, with its lingering blood aura, to Xu Fan's eyes.
Looking at these eyes that were as calm as an ancient well, Azanmu instinctively swallowed.
In just these brief moments, the souls fallen under this young man's sword numbered no less than hundreds.
Logically, such a frenzied slaughter for a young man should be something incredibly difficult to accept.
Yet Xu Fan's current performance far exceeds Azanmu's expectations.
Having reaped hundreds of lives, he showed not a hint of reaction, and even a touch of proficiency in his gaze.
It's as if such actions were as routine for him as everyday meals...
What on earth is this guy's background?
This question popped into Azanmu's mind.
"Alright, it's your turn now."
