Being mocked face-to-face by Han Zhan,
a huge wave of anger surged up,
bringing a touch of clarity to Luo Qiuhong's eyes.
"Kill...kill...kill me!" The fragmented words spilled from her mouth.
She was struggling, fighting for control of her body with the weakening National Sorrow Sword.
All she desired was death, nothing else.
"Then, as you wish."
Han Zhan's eyes were obscure, making it impossible to discern his true emotions.
After saying this, he suddenly exerted force with the right hand holding the Xuanyuan Sword, thrusting forward.
The audience in the stands fell silent.
Moments ago, they were excitedly discussing how they were members of the cleanup squad in play, and now they were dumbfounded with their mouths wide open.
Muttering to himself, "How is this possible... no one plays like this... no one..."
The blade of the Xuanyuan Sword was about to slice through Luo Qiuhong's throat, killing her.
At the crucial moment.
