Duan Qinghan once said, "If a person wants to live in this world, he must do it for something."
"So, hatred is also a purpose of living."
When Xiao Shaoxi continued her words, Duan Qinghan's sword had been broken into eight pieces. Corpses lay on the ground in front of her, and her white clothes were soaked with blood.
"Then what happens when the hatred ends?" Xiao Shaoxi asked her, "Where should we go?"
Duan Qinghan raised the hand holding the dagger high, and the damaged blade exuded a cold sparkle under the afterglow of the setting sun, "Then fall..."