Within the devastated Fengtian Hall, copious amounts of bright, ghastly red blood spilled across the floor.
In the moment that Xiao Feng stood firm,
a scream as if expelling all the air in one's body with a loud "Ah" abruptly cut through the air of the hall.
Bai Yujing's face was contorted as if it were a red-hot iron block, his body tense like a stone; yet his heart sank like it was weighed down with cold lead, staring fixedly at the corpse lying on the ground.
The dragon robe, symbolic of supreme dignity and golden hue, had already been soaked with blood, turning into a harsh and dull sauce color.
"The Emperor!! He's dead!!"
Bai Yujing's eyes bulged like two ripe plums, as if squeezing out a sound he himself had never heard from his throat.
His voice was hoarse and shrill, with strong undertones of anger and panic.
