Wang Xuan's words were spoken with firm resolve, and amidst the flickering lights, dirt continued to fall steadily—it seemed this place would soon collapse.
Master Hong listened, and instead of the usual fear and panic people feel in the face of death, he laughed out loud: "What is death? You may subdue my flesh body, but my spirit will never concede!"
The sword in his hand was sharp, a flash of light swept across the three people nearby, and instantly blood splattered out.
"One stroke to seal your throats, I'll send you on your way first. Because I'm afraid the three of you, your will isn't strong enough," Master Hong sighed.
The cold-faced man and two others with feminine features were struck with disbelief, full of astonishment, not expecting to die not by Wang Xuan's hand, but by Master Hong's sword.
"We…" The cold-faced man fell.
"Don't want to…" The feminine-featured man fell.
"Die…" The third person fell.
