Wu Yuan stopped ten feet away from Yan Huo, and slowly raised the Dark Abyss Sword, its tip aimed at Yan Huo’s throat.
“Vice Palace Master Yan, prepare to die.”
Just as he was about to make his move, he suddenly felt a bone-chilling coldness coming from behind him.
The chill didn’t come from the icy plains of the north, but from the gaze of one person.
Wu Yuan suddenly turned around.
Chen Ping stood less than three zhang behind him, the Dragon Slayer Sword already unsheathed, purple chaotic fire burning on the sword, distorting the surrounding space slightly.
His purple eyes stared at Wu Yuan, devoid of any emotion, like an executioner looking at a prisoner about to be executed.
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