Long Qingyun's compromise had barely left his lips when the figure within the gray mist moved.
Without any earth-shattering aura, Qin He's figure merely swayed slightly, and he was already standing before Long Qingyao.
The two Li Clan cultivators holding down the young woman had yet to wipe the lecherous smiles from their faces when their vision blurred, and an icy chill sliced across their necks.
"Pfft!"
Two soft sounds rang out almost simultaneously. Two heads, wearing unwilling, astonished expressions, rolled across the bluestone slabs as blood sprayed forth, dyeing Long Qingyao's torn skirt red.
"Flowers may bloom again, but people never regain their youth. One must not crush a flower with cruel hands... must not." Qin He stood with his hands behind his back. Without even glancing at Long Qingyao, he turned his gaze toward the Li Clan members gathering at the sound. His voice was not loud, yet it carried with piercing force and seized the soul.
Long Qingyao stared blankly at the black-robed young man's back before her. It felt like a dream, as if she had fallen into delirium before death, and with a thud, she dropped to her knees.
Only when pain shot through both knees did she come back to herself.
Not far away, Long Mingyuan's pupils contracted sharply as well. He had not even seen the Black Robed Man's movements just now. He had only caught a black shadow flash past, and the Li Clan cultivators had already been separated from their heads.
"Who is it?!"
Li Wanshan gripped his bloodstained longsword and glared furiously at Qin He. Spiritual power surged around him. "You dare meddle in my Li Clan's affairs? Are you tired of living?"
Qin He raised a hand and adjusted the brim of his conical hat, concealing most of his