"What did you say? You dare to—" Yao Fan raised his stick high, ready to bring it down on Mo Han's shoulder.
But before the stick could descend, Mo Han moved.
It was a simple step, but the air shifted. His foot pressed against the earth and his eyes locked onto Yao Fan's. "If you try to strike me, then today I will die here. But before I die… I will take your life with me." Mo Han said, his voice low, each word deliberate.
The courtyard trembled with the intensity of his words. Even the leaves of the Aruna tree rustled as though sensing the killing intent hidden beneath Mo Han's calm exterior.
Fatty Lambu gawked, his bread falling from his hand. "Brother Mo…" he whispered, trembling, "are you planning to murder the sect master's son before breakfast?!"
