Yang Fei looked up to observe Harlin.
He was wearing a striped casual suit. Graceful and poised, his hair was immaculately styled, and he was slender, like a fine wolf brush.
On Harlin's face, Yang Fei couldn't detect any sign of panic.
It seemed as though he wasn't on a battlefield, but having afternoon tea with a close friend.
Yet outside, the Guardian Army lay in a mess of dead and wounded, and every second someone was suffering and dying.
This stark contrast ignited a burning fury within Yang Fei's heart.
This bastard's elegance and grace were built upon the desperate battle of the Guardian Army outside!
Harlin's wolf brush was still carefully writing a script, that of the Tang Dynasty's great calligrapher Yan Zhenqing's "Lament of Chaos."
Yang Fei snapped his fingers, and Harlin's script was immediately set ablaze by the Phoenix Mysterious Fire.
The flames quickly consumed and spread.
In an instant, the script Harlin was about to finish turned into a fireball.
