Lan Xinghai's furious outburst was like a volcanic eruption. His eyes turned bloodshot as he stared fixedly at Lin Ming, and his voice was cold as ice:
"I already said not to kill him, and you still dared to make a move! You're slapping me right in the face!"
Spiritual energy surged wildly around his body, and a terrifying pressure crushed down toward Lin Ming. That pressure was as heavy as a physical entity, and the air in the grand hall seemed to freeze, causing everyone to feel that heavy sense of oppression.
Those Tier Twelve powerhouses all wore solemn expressions, for they could sense that Lan Xinghai was truly enraged. That kind of fury seemed as though it would set the entire hall ablaze, and even the air was permeated with a scorching heat.
The others in the hall also wore unsightly expressions, yet some of them harbored schadenfreude deep down inside, feeling that Lin Ming was truly finished this time.
Daring to kill someone right in front of the Monarch, what was this if not courting death? Someone muttered in a low voice:
"Is this brat out of his mind?"
"A madman? I'd say he's a fool, not even giving the Monarch face—isn't this seeking his own destruction?"
"Just wait and see, he definitely won't walk out of this grand hall today."
Their voices carried a sense of gloating schadenfreude, as though they had already foreseen the outcome of Lin Ming being sanctioned.
Yet Lin Ming's expression remained calm, as if Lan Xinghai's fury were nothing more than a gentle breeze in his eyes. He glanced indifferently at Lan Xinghai, his tone flat:
"Oh, so what if I killed him?"
After finishing his sentence, he turned as if to leave. That casual and unconcerned demeanor made it seem