Facing the combined attack of the White Lotus Sect's seven men, Lin Changqing's expression remained unchanged. He suddenly let out a thunderous roar: "Get lost..."
That single word—get lost—exploded like a clap of thunder, as though it would tear the night itself apart.
Especially when it reached the ears of the White Lotus Sect's seven men, it rang like a great bell and large drum, shaking their minds and carrying a terrifying might.
All seven of them shuddered inwardly.
Their expressions visibly clouded, and the attacks they had launched at Lin Changqing abruptly stalled.
Clang!
At that moment, Lin Changqing moved.
With a flick of his hand, the Jingzhe Saber on his back was already out of its sheath.
The next instant, a cold glint of saber light flashed, and Lin Changqing had arrived at the middle-aged man's side.
The razor-sharp blade slashed across his throat.
It all seemed slow, but it had happened in a flash of lightning.
By the time the others recovered from their daze, they saw the middle-aged man clutching his own throat.
Blood sprayed from between his fingers as he roared in disbelief, "How could this..."
Before he could finish, his neck bent and he toppled to the ground, his breath utterly gone.
Until his death, he had no idea when Lin Changqing's saber had slashed across his throat.
At the same time!
The other six members of the White Lotus Sect were stunned as well. Watching the middle-aged man die, all six of their faces turned grim.
Their eyes were filled with disbelief and terror.
They had not seen Lin Changqing's strike clearly either.
Of course, the most important point was that Lin Changqing's roar had carried something strange within it, leaving their minds dazed. That was the key to the middle-aged man's death.