Surging baleful aura filled the plaza, the heavy stench of blood nearly solidifying into substance, choking people until they could barely breathe.
Yet even more suffocating than that bloody reek was the scene before them.
Saint Tong Xuan, once benevolent and kindly, now had blood splattered across his aged face. His spotless white robes had been entirely dyed crimson, blood continuously dripping from them, making him look like a Fierce Ghost revealing its true form.
Beside him, Xiao Yan stood atop a headless corpse. Though locked onto by overwhelming killing intent, his expression did not ripple in the slightest. The baleful aura around him was so dense that he resembled a savage god who had stepped out of a battlefield.
Gu Yao was dead!
Not only that, but right before an Ancient Clan Half-Saint and under the watchful eyes of countless factions, Xiao Yan had effortlessly crushed his head beneath his foot, not even leaving behind an intact corpse.
"This..."
Gu Qingyang's pupils constricted, disbelief still written all over his face. "How is this possible?"
He had never imagined that Gu Yao, who had been loudly boasting only moments earlier, would die so quickly and so miserably.
At this point, no matter how displeased he had been with Gu Yao, he could no longer turn a blind eye.
Gu Qingyang's expression shifted. He took a deep breath and was just about to rise when a slender, fair hand reached out from before him, blocking his path.
"Wait."
"You, Xun'er?"
Gu Qingyang frowned deeply. He knew that if she chose to stop him, then even if the Elder Council had temporarily stripped her of her position as chief, she would still possess the greatest say in the matter.
"Xun'er, at a time like this, you should understand that I have no