Ye Zhen swept his sword upward in a backhand slash. Before the sword even arrived, its astonishing sword qi sent a chill through Dalan Tai's crotch, making his soul nearly flee his body.
The sword qi Ye Zhen had blasted into his body earlier was still wreaking havoc. At this moment, he simply could not mount any effective defense.
Even more helplessly, even if Dalan Tai had been capable of defending or evading effectively, he would not have had the chance.
There was no other reason. Ye Zhen was too fast.
Even Dalan Tai could not make out Ye Zhen's figure.
He only had time for one thought—judging from Ye Zhen's sword momentum alone, Dalan Tai knew that whether this sword struck depended entirely on Ye Zhen.
If Ye Zhen was a little ruthless, he would undoubtedly die. If Ye Zhen held back a little, he would still be gravely wounded.
And the serious injury would be to his vital root. In the future, whenever he wanted to do anything, he feared it would leave a psychological shadow.
For all that had been said, it had merely been an instant's thought in Dalan Tai's mind, the Right Grand Chief Priest of the Battle Soul Hall.
Yet Ye Zhen's sword momentum did not pause in the slightest. Just as he was about to cut down Dalan Tai with one stroke, the priests watching from all directions cried out in alarm.
Although injuries were common in challenges and sparring matches, and deaths, while rare, were not unheard of.
Most were caused by an inability to withdraw one's attack in time, or by both sides fighting with true fury and staking their lives. A slaughter-like execution such as Ye Zhen's before their eyes was exceedingly rare.
But at that very instant, the void