Yuan Zhan's head rolled across the ground. His headless body crashed down as blood gushed out like a fountain, drenching the earth.
The din of battle abruptly fell silent.
The few Netherworld Pavilion Stewards fighting the Qingxuan Sect Stewards all froze, their weapons halting mid-swing.
Their eyes fell upon the headless corpse in the black robes of an Elder. Their pupils constricted, and all color drained from their faces in an instant.
Yuan Zhan was dead.
The Late Stage of Third Grade Elder, the very backbone of their group, was dead.
Slain by the sword of a young man barely in his twenties.
"Run!"
It was impossible to tell who shouted first, but the voice was filled with unconcealable terror.
A Netherworld Pavilion Steward abruptly pulled back his weapon, turned, and fled for his life.
That one shout was like a signal, and the dam broke.
