Huo Churan lay on the ground like a lump of mud, with only faint heaving in his chest.
Long after, he finally propped himself up, crawled to the wall, leaned on it to stand, and started limping forward.
Blood continuously dripped from the corner of his mouth.
But his eyes were filled with extreme bitterness and venom.
"Fang Che!"
"Mo Gan Yun!"
"I won't let either of you off!"
"Just you wait!"
He muttered to himself, moving forward step by step.
Only this mountainous and oceanic hatred sustained him; it had become his spiritual support.
He reached the next corner.
But then, he felt a gaze full of malice watching him.
Almost unable to bear it, he forced open his swollen eyelids to look ahead.
In front of him stood a gaunt figure watching him, holding a bright, gleaming sword in hand.
This person felt as sharp as the sword he wielded.
Slim, expressionless, with an aura of solitude.
It was none other than Ding Jie Ran.
"Ding Jie Ran?"
