A god-tier performance was impossible to describe—and even more mentally devastating.
"You old, cowardly, stupid idiot, you definitely can't figure this out. Who put you up to this?"
"Speak."
A sword cry answered him.
A black-and-yellow sword pierced through the wooden door, whistling as it charged in.
Calling it a sword would have been less accurate than calling it a guided missile. The supersonic blade left only a black-and-yellow shadow in the air. Walter only knew it was a sword because, before he could react, it had already embedded itself in the ground before him.
His right hand was sliced off along with it.
"Who is it?"
With the Xuanyuan Sword under his control, he could slash people while lying in bed. Other weapons did not have that effect. He rose to his feet. This time, he could no longer claim to be just a passing chef. He could not reveal his identity, so he had to come up with a new entrance line.
He could not be bothered to think.
"Danqing doesn't know old age is coming; wealth and rank are like floating clouds to me."
Reciting Fu Hua - Yun Mo Dan Xin's poetic title—with slight modifications—he slowly made his entrance.
"Standing before you is the ninth disciple of the Shenzhou Guardian, here to fulfill your destined calamity!"
Zhao Bai had just said he was the eighth disciple.
But he had just realized that he seemed to have forgotten Cheng Lixue.
Zhao Bai reflected on his mistake.
Even his voice had taken on such an ancient Shenzhou style, completely different from his normal state. There was no way he could be recognized this time, right?
"Your mask bears the Stars and Stripes, yet your speech carries the ancient flavor of Shenzhou. Who exactly are you?"
Walter clutched his