Song Wen had originally believed that the conflict between the Zhan Clan and Qu Tianlu was merely a city-slaughtering raid launched by Qu Tianlu, this ghost cultivator, who had set his sights on the countless cultivators' fleshly bodies, essence blood, souls, and the Zhan Clan's various treasures within Yitai City.
But upon hearing Zhan Ji's words, Song Wen immediately realized that the two sides seemed to have an old grudge dating back many years.
The blade that Song Wen could have used to take Qu Tianlu's life directly suddenly withdrew.
At the same time, he gradually slowed his escape speed and no longer pursued Qu Tianlu, whom he had sent flying with a slash.
Qu Tianlu had narrowly escaped with his life, yet he felt neither relief at surviving a disaster nor lingering fear. He did not even glance at the wound on his chest. Instead, his eyes were crimson as blood as he fixed them on Zhan Ji.
"Zhan Ji, back then, you led people to slaughter my Qu Family. Of the Qu Family's two million, five hundred thirty-nine thousand, seven hundred twenty-four people, everyone but me died a miserable death. Not one was spared."
"For more than ten thousand years, I endured countless dangers and hardships, skirted death time and again, and stained my hands with the blood of countless cultivators, all to find you—to seek vengeance against the Zhan Clan."
"But how hateful! I hate that my strength was insufficient; I hate that your Zhan Clan's fate had not yet run out, that someone happened to come and rescue your Zhan Clan. Otherwise, today would have been the day your Zhan Clan perished!"
Qu Tianlu's roar was soaked in blood with every word, brimming with utter unwillingness and towering hatred.
Having said that, he turned to Song