Long Yichen's entire body tingled when he felt the cold tip of the sword against his neck, and he audibly gulped. The sword was so chilling that he didn't dare to move one bit. Death had never been so close to him before. He breathed heavily, but didn't dare so much as swallow a larger gulp of saliva than necessary, lest his throat move too much and cause the blade to pierce into him. "You, it's you!" he answered helplessly.

"Didn't you say Ye Bodhi was the one earlier?" Tianming asked, still smiling.

"It was my mistake. I had eyes, but couldn't see. You are far more terrifying than I imagined. I am fully convinced of your abilities." To survive, he no longer cared the slightest bit about his pride. As long as he lived, there was hope, but once it was over, that was it. There was no way he would carelessly toss his life away without having fulfilled his life's aspirations nor avenged his mother. The sensation of dread from a brush so close with...