Chapter 911: Murderous Grudge
Yang Wu indeed reached up to touch his own neck.
A neat yet shallow mark slowly emerged, growing utterly hideous until it separated his head from his body like a heavenly chasm.
The light in his eyes gradually dimmed. He had completely remembered what had happened that day. After his younger sister was forced onto the divine carriage, he had been pinned down, and then that ghost-headed broadsword had come down without mercy.
"I... died."
Yang Wu murmured.
The burly man holding the ghost-headed broadsword bellowed. His hands formed sword fingers as he pointed at the youth. "Since you are already dead, how can you still live?!"
The divine light in Yang Wu's eyes grew dimmer still. "How can I still live?"
As his words fell, the wound on his neck became increasingly distinct. Even the head that had originally been placed back on was swaying precariously. It seemed that no one needed to make another move; in but a moment, the youth's body would thoroughly rot away, turning into a pile of dry bones in the great hall.
Inside the hall.
The guests sat in utter silence.
The Ghost King's curled beard drooped from his lofty seat like an inverted volcano.
Compared with the low stool beneath him, his enormous body looked like a giant crouching atop a stone step.
His body was covered in bluish-black scales, fangs jutting wildly from his mouth, horns slanting toward the azure heavens.
A faint scarlet gleam flickered in his eyes as he examined the youth who had barged in.
If it was truly as the ghost official beneath him had said, and this head had been severed three years ago, then even with the Three-Eyed Ghost Clan's divine abilities, it would have been impossible for him to survive—much