A Night of Fair Weather and Murder

Could these stars really be the same as those of last night?

At least, Wang Xian, outside the little courtyard, had no idea that in the blink of an eye, a drastic change had taken place within the imperial palace.

Looking at these men in the wind, who called themselves the Seven Heroes of Southern Border, he saw that they came in every shape and size. He had no interest in asking their names.

He merely waved his sleeve and sighed.

He said, "I'm in neither a good nor a bad mood today. I can pretend I never saw you... so hurry up and get lost!"

In the eyes of the Seven Heroes of Southern Border, however, the young man outside the courtyard suddenly changed.

One moment he was a carefree young master; the next, he seemed to have transformed into a young god of slaughter from the wilderness, his entire body emanating a chilling aura of death.

The middle-aged man kicked the snow on the ground into the air and barked coldly, "Arrogant!"

The effeminate-looking man didn't wait for his companions to act. He shouted first, "Why waste our breath on him? Just kill him."

Not far away, a short old man walked over and said coldly, "I'll count to three. One, two..."

Before he could finish saying three, killing erupted in the darkness.

Almost the instant the short old man began his countdown, the middle-aged man's pupils contracted. Behind him, the effeminate-looking man moved like a ghost, a spirit sword appearing in his hand.

It could be said that among the cultivators still alive in the imperial capital, even the ministers and generals who had entered the palace today, very few had seen Wang Xian strike.

Almost everyone who had seen it was dead.

Or rather, the cultivators