In her panic, Huo Qingtong hurriedly thrust her spear back at him. Chilaun gave a savage grin and knocked the silver spear from her hand with a single slash, then grabbed her belt and dragged her onto his horse.
Chilaun was overjoyed. He thought to himself that he had no idea how that useless Bo'olghu had been killed by this woman. Just as he was about to shout that Huo Qingtong had been captured and utterly crush the Muzhuolun Tribe's morale, he cried, "Huo Qingtong has been—"
Suddenly, every hair on his body stood on end. Years spent on the battlefield had given him an instinctive sense for danger. He hurriedly dodged to the side, no longer even caring about Huo Qingtong in his grasp.
But he was still too late. What entered his vision was a full moon, beautiful and tranquil, yet filled with an eerie aura. The next instant, he realized that he was flying—but why could he still see his own body?
A terrible possibility suddenly surfaced in his mind. As terror seized him, his vision sank into endless darkness.
Chilaun's bodyguards all widened their eyes. They could not understand why the Water Moon Great Sect Master had suddenly attacked, nor why their commander, Chilaun—though his martial arts were inferior to the Water Moon Great Sect Master's—had been killed in a single stroke.
After their brief shock, the guards came to their senses. Enraged, they charged at Song Qingshu one after another, determined to avenge their master. Chilaun had personally selected these men as his guards. Many of them were his nakor—slaves and retainers—whose fortunes were bound to his. Seeing their master killed, they went mad and charged Song Qingshu without regard for their lives.
Song Qingshu kicked Chilaun's head toward Huo Qingtong. "Leave this to me.