The pavilion behind him shattered.
Bricks splintered and dust billowed.
Li Chang'an withdrew his fist, his gaze falling upon the Grand Elder, whose face was a shifting mask of green and white. "You chose the hard way," he said coolly. "If it weren't for Her Majesty taking your shared bloodline into account and sending me to give you one last chance to repent, do you really think you'd both still be alive to stand here and talk to me?"
The Grand Elder's throat felt dry.
Staring at the cold, impassive Li Chang'an, he was momentarily speechless.
From the ruins of the pavilion, the Second Elder clutched his chest and struggled to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he shot out another mass of silk threads, trying to sever Li Chang'an's head.
A Grandmaster was a Grandmaster, after all. Not only had the Second Elder survived a direct punch from Li Chang'an, but he could even stumble back to his feet and continue fighting.
