Imperial Butterfly

Amid the rubble, Mo Ling lay sprawled on the ground like a dead dog.

His luxurious black brocade robe had long since been shredded beyond recognition, hanging off him in strips and exposing the mangled wounds beneath. A large section of his chest had caved in, and who knew how many ribs had been broken. Every breath brought tearing agony and uncontrollable coughing, while even fragments of organs mixed with the bloody foam he spat out.

He struggled to rise, bracing both hands against the rubble, but his arms shook like dead branches in the wind. He had barely pushed up half his body when his knees gave way, and he crashed heavily back to the ground, sending dust flying.

Not far away, Lu Changsheng stood atop a towering boulder with his hands behind his back. The sea wind whipped his azure robe with a sharp rustle. He held the Sea God Halberd, its tip angled toward the ground as azure blue watery light flowed across its shaft, setting off his handsome face and tall frame. He looked like a war god who had stepped out of an ancient battlefield, gazing down from above at the wretched Mo Ling.

Mo Ling's face was deathly pale as he struggled to lift his head and meet Lu Changsheng's gaze in midair.

In that instant, he felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head, as though every drop of blood in his body had frozen. He had never imagined that he, the dignified Young Pavilion Master of Kunming Pavilion and a Sixth-Rank Martial Venerable, would be driven to such a state by a mere Third-Rank Martial Venerable!

What he found even harder to accept was that his opponent had not even used a martial