As Mo Hua had expected, Zhang Quan was utterly no match for Lu Chengyun.
Lu Chengyun's swordsmanship had profound Sword Qi and practiced, polished moves.
Zhang Quan was still using the same old routine. Relying on his corpse transformation, he traded straightforward blows with Lu Chengyun, move for move, then was pierced into a honeycomb by Sword Qi, drenched in blood, and collapsed to the ground.
That poverty of strategy and simplicity of tactics left Mo Hua gasping in admiration.
Mo Hua had thought that if Zhang Quan dared to clash head-on with Lu Chengyun, he really must still have some trump card tucked away at the bottom of the chest. He had not expected that he was relying entirely on a bellyful of rage and a spirit that did not fear death.
And then he really was about to die...
Mo Hua watched, shaking his head nonstop.
If he really were his ancestor, he would have been so furious he would have flipped the coffin lid.
He had secretly controlled the Iron Corpses and helped him so much, but in the end this Zhang Quan still failed to live up to expectations at all!
With things like this, without Zhang Quan as a chess piece, he had no way to trick Lu Chengyun to death...
Mo Hua felt somewhat helpless.
Within the Altar, Zhang Quan was on his last breath.
His face was deathly pale, blood at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps knowing he was certain to die, he did not beg Lu Chengyun for mercy, but used up all his strength and said haltingly, "My... my... portrait?"
Lu Chengyun raised a brow. "You mean your Ancestor Portrait?"
Zhang Quan coughed up a mouthful of blood and said weakly, "That's right..."
Lu Chengyun shook his head. "It is