"Aren't you going to come over and accept your death?"
A sinister, cold light danced in Hong Yu's eyes, as if two orbs of Thousand-Year Cold Ice were spinning in their sockets.
The sinister chill they radiated made it impossible to meet his gaze.
At this moment, Hong Yu was stained with blood, his hair dancing wildly. He looked like a Demon King, sovereign over all the world.
He gripped the golden Godslaying Spear in one hand. The shaft was covered in jagged, terrifying Dragon Scales. Streaks of fresh blood flowed through the gaps between them, lingered for a moment on the sharp spearpoint, then dripped to the ground. DRIP. DRIP.
This was the blood of Unparalleled True Dragons.
It represented several masters and geniuses who were supposed to have boundless prospects, a smooth path forward, and limitless future accomplishments.
And yet, in this moment...
They had become nothing more than Lost Souls, slain by the young man before them.
This was a terrifying battle!
