Lu Feng's appearance immediately drew the attention of everyone from the Ice Scythe Sect.
All eyes turned toward him.
At the sight of Lu Feng's familiar figure, Bai Bing suddenly felt her nose sting. It was as if she had found someone to lean on; her steadfast heart abruptly softened, and the blood and Qi she had been forcibly holding back finally slipped beyond her control, bursting from her mouth.
Bai Xue leaned against her side. By now, she had already fainted from her severe injuries, yet her fair face was still filled with worry and helplessness, looking unbearably pitiful.
"Who are you, esteemed guest?"
Scarface stared at the Cold Heart Sword that Lu Feng had casually drawn into his hand, his expression hostile as he threatened, "The Ice Scythe Sect is conducting business here. I advise you not to meddle in matters that do not concern you."
The man beside him chimed in arrogantly, "If you know what's good for you, leave that treasured sword behind and get lost. Otherwise, soon enough, you won't even know how you died!"
Clang—
The Cold Heart Sword left its sheath!
There was not a word of needless nonsense.
A sharp cold gleam, like silver light slicing through the night, flashed past in an instant.
The next moment.
The man who had proclaimed that Lu Feng would not even know how he died was already lying in a pool of blood, his eyes still bulging wide with incredulous terror.
The others from the Ice Scythe Sect all stood frozen at the sight.
Some of them had not even seen how Lu Feng had made that strike. It had been so fast that it had left no trace.
Scarface swallowed heavily, realizing that Lu Feng was no ordinary man. He demanded in a grave