By the time Wang Chen finished his slaughter, the street in front of the tavern was already carpeted with corpses.
Not a single corpse was intact. Some had been severed at the waist, others beheaded, and blood pooled into streams across the bluestone pavement. The air was thick with a scent that flies loved.
Wang Chen recalled the Crimson Lion Sword and landed on the ground.
With him at the center, not a living soul could be seen within several hundred paces.
The once bustling market had seemingly turned into an infernal ghost domain!
Everyone had clearly been terrified by the brutal slaughter.
Profound Meaning Daoist had brought a large number of subordinates to the meeting, which could be considered cautious and prudent.
Yet this Purple Mansion fifth-layer cultivator had calculated everything except that he would fall here today and lose his precious life.
Along with him, a band of fierce and valiant horse bandits had also been harvested by Wang Chen.
He reached out and drew the Storage Bags hanging from the corpses into his hand one by one.
A tiger could grow fat in one meal; though flies were small, they were still meat. Wang Chen did not carry the burden of status of some "Purple Mansion master," and did not mind picking up a few scraps of spoils.
What if he opened some treasure in these "blind boxes"?
Wang Chen had not forgotten that his Thousand Transformations Mask and Heavenly Net to Punish Evil had both come from Qi Refining cultivators.
A low-level cultivator might not necessarily lack great treasures!
"Fellow Daoist..."
Wang Chen had just finished clearing the battlefield when an aged voice suddenly reached his ears. "Could you explain why you killed so many people here?"
Explain?
Wang Chen sneered. "Why should Chen explain his