A cold voice carried through the courtyard like a bitter autumn wind sweeping across the earth, sending chills down every spine.
Li Changlin's grip tightened slightly around his Long Staff. Fine beads of sweat covered his forehead, and his shoulders began to tremble.
He desperately wanted to move. Even with Qin An's blade against his neck, he felt he could still fight back.
But Qin An's words echoed through his mind like a curse.
That curse-like voice felt as though someone had poured a basin of cold water over his heart.
He knew that if he really moved, Qin An would likely draw the blade across his neck and take off his head.
The onlookers heard Qin An too, and surprise spread across their faces.
Some gripped their weapons without a word. Others quietly took a step back, weighing the gap between themselves and Li Changlin.
Still others shook their heads, turned, and left the courtyard.
They knew their own strength. If Qin An could put a blade to Li Changlin's neck so easily, he was not someone they could handle.
They abandoned any thought of challenging Qin An here.
After a long silence, Li Changlin finally released his Long Staff.
The staff hit the ground with a sharp clatter.
The sound rang through the courtyard like a keen blade driven into everyone's chest, quickening their breaths.
Li Changlin sagged like a deflated ball, his arms hanging at his sides. But his paper-white fingertips betrayed the turmoil inside him.
Qin An sheathed his blade and kicked the Long Staff.
He sent it tumbling away like a worthless piece of trash until it came to rest in a corner.
The corner was inconspicuous, yet the staff seemed as glaring as the sun. No one could look away.
"Get lost."
Qin An