The Death of a Villain

Inside the teahouse, the air seemed to freeze in an instant,

and silence fell. The young cultivator's words still echoed among the rafters.

"When the four of us brothers get angry, all we see before us are corpses..."

As he spoke, his fingers tapped lightly against his scabbard, the rhythmic clicks like a death knell.

The woman arched an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a cold, mocking smile.

She truly hadn't expected the legendary Four Great Villains, whose very name struck fear into people's hearts, to trade barbs with Wang Xian like this.

What surprised her even more was that Wang Xian hadn't even lifted an eyelid.

He simply served the little white wolf a piece of beef, as if the four infamous men before him were nothing but weeds by the roadside, unworthy of notice.

The black-robed Old Daoist suddenly spoke, his voice as rough as sandpaper scraping against itself. "Kill someone? Who wants to kill someone?"

"Me!"

The woman answered without hesitation, pointing straight at the young cultivator.

As she reached out to stroke Feng Hao's head, she said with a smile, "This little guy is practically my younger brother, and that little white wolf is his brother. If you want to kill my little brother's brother, then I'll just have to kill you."

As she spoke, however, her eyes remained fixed on the Old Daoist's hand beneath his black robe, her gaze full of caution.

The Old Daoist sighed helplessly, his black robe fluttering despite the lack of wind.

He sneered. "Why can't you just act like a proper woman?"

"Because you think you can kill me,"

the woman said with a light laugh. At some point, a spirit sword had appeared between her fingers, its blade gleaming coldly. "But you don't know there