“If you dare kill my brother, I will make all of you accompany him.”

An icy voice resounded throughout the entire monastery. The killing intent within that voice could make the nine heavens shiver and the river of stars flicker.

This was a kind of undefeatable will, something unrelated to cultivation base. Every expert present felt their hearts sink.

The midday sun was glaring down on the ground. A figure slowly walked forward, a blood-colored saber on his shoulder, blood still dripping down the blade.

His black robes and long hair fluttered in the wind. His eyes were like two stars, making him appear extremely handsome. But the killing intent on his face could overturn the Yellow Springs of Hell.

One man. One saber. Disdainfully looking down on all. Even in the face of hundreds of Xiantian experts, he still advanced bravely, looking at them as if they were beneath him.

“Long Chen!” Tang Wan-er let out a soft cry, and tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t afraid of death. But she had been afraid of never seeing Long Chen again, of never hearing his candid laughter again, of never seeing that face with that wicked sm...