In the sunlight, Zhao Wuji's face, twisted with smugness, appeared exceptionally hideous. He looked at Ye Fan as if admiring a plaything he was about to crush with his own hands, every word dripping with cold satisfaction: "Ye Fan, my good nephew, are you feeling utterly despairing? Are you furious? Hahaha, I am going to make you die in despair! I will make you understand that going against me is the most foolish decision of you ever made in your life!"
Trading barbs with Iron Fist King, they were like two hyenas that had caught the scent of blood, attempting to psychologically crush Ye Fan completely. The surrounding air seemed to freeze, the ferocious grins of the Black Tiger Gang members, and the haughty arrogance of Zhao Wuji's retainers formed a sharp contrast against the suppressed fear of the common folk. A battle of life and death, even more tragic and perilous, was already notched on the bowstring, poised for action!
At this moment, however, Ye Fan's gaze became unusually calm—it was the dead silence before a storm. He slowly straightened his body, and his aura, which had been slightly scattered from the previous fight, quietly converged at this moment, an intangible sharpness radiating from his body.
Chapter 30