Fang Yu picked up the silver dagger.
This was neither a sharp weapon nor a magic artifact. It was just an ordinary piece of silverware.
Yet the chill it reflected in the sunlight made Carl shudder all over.
He was not afraid of death.
But rather, because he had been fallen for over a thousand years.
Enduring silently for a thousand years, he had been drawing on the essence of the sun and the moon over Tiandu Mountain.
Now, he would not be willing to lie down for even a hundred years, not at all willing.
Carl looked at the dagger in Fang Yu's hand and became frantic—
"It was you who forced me!"
Suddenly, he spread his arms wide.
Strands of blood qi appeared all over his body.
That blood qi was swirling and dancing like a person's Primordial Qi.
Anything it touched was corroded and shattered.
