Zuo Feng's face was indifferent as he spoke.
"Your long sword is indeed impressive, but unfortunately, my short blade is an artifact."
The martial artist with the surname Yu initially shocked, gradually turned to unwillingness. A red line slowly expanded on his ** upper body, a large amount of blood spattering out eagerly. His eyes grew murky, and even upon death, they did not close, leaving his body standing upright, never falling to the ground.
Zuo Feng unhesitatingly reached out, pressing his hand against the man's chest and abdomen, completely ignoring the blood covering his hand. He closed his eyes, concentrating on sensing the dissolution of the spiritual energy on the surface of the opponent's body. It was only after a long while that Zuo Feng withdrew his hand, and then he rummaged through the man's belongings, tossing anything of little use to him into the storage crystal.
