Above the head, a vermilion lotus etched with twelve scar marks!
When Lao Dao took off that mink hat, it was as if a Great Demon Fiend shed its human skin, a fierce aura inexplicably rising around him.
With every breath he took, the intense breath he exhaled seemed as thick as rolling scarlet.
Wisp by wisp, like thick red broth boiling, long and short, retracting unpredictably, swirling and dispersing.
At first glance, it seemed as if hundreds and thousands of tiny snakes were coiling around his body, entwining his vital limbs.
"Heaven-defying Saber..."
Zhang the Fifth, with his robust, muscle-bound, and expanded physique, standing in the face of the tall elder emerging from the dark alley, was like a meek and weak lamb confronting a fierce tiger with hanging eyes.
