A line of blood appeared on the youth's neck.
He stared at the person before him in disbelief, yet he could no longer utter a single sound.
But all the hatred, the animosity, the venom in his eyes... had been utterly wiped clean.
His gaze grew utterly pure, leaving behind only a single emotion—fear!
Chu Huaixu stood up, his face scarcely showing any change in expression.
"What a fine seedling of an Evil Cultivator."
Before he swung his sword, he did only one thing: he looked over all the wounds on his body and that severed palm.
He thought, as long as the other had eyes, he ought to see how badly he was wounded in order to slay evil.
If the other had a conscience, he should know that his left palm was severed because of him.
Yet this youth saw nothing, noticed nothing.
So, the answer was perfectly clear.
"Fucking Evil Cultivators! So many sinister tricks!"
