"Jiang Youtuo, my son has returned, and it's not up to me..." The man in white stood gracefully in the court, while under him, corpses lay everywhere. The folding fan in the man's hand pointed at the man in front of him elegantly, "If I don't pass, his whistle will also sing."
The man in front of him slowly put away the sword in his hand and looked at him standing on this scarlet with disgust. But there was a smile on his lips, so innocent.
The night was dark and the moon was just right, but there was only dead silence in the courtyard.