The last syllable of Wu Liangchen's "It will be quick" hadn't even faded before the banquet hall descended into a living hell.
He didn't even move from his spot. Wherever his gaze landed, an invisible force, like the Grim Reaper's scythe, reaped lives with deadly precision and efficiency.
The patriarchs of the great families, who had just moments before been toasting each other in high spirits, now fell in droves like wheat flattened by a gale. Terrified expressions froze on their faces as the light in their eyes rapidly faded.
There were no screams, no struggles. It was all over in the blink of an eye.
The thick stench of blood mingled with the aroma of food and wine, creating a strange, nauseating odor that filled the luxurious banquet hall.
Wu Liangchen stood his ground as if he had just done something utterly insignificant.
