"Ah!"
Amid a scream of bone-deep agony, a rapidly spinning figure tumbled to the ground.
Lian Youming had brutally twisted both of Ao Fei's arms apart.
Tendons tore at the breaks, one arm severed at the elbow joint and the other snapped clean through the forearm.
Perhaps they had broken off too quickly; they still twitched a few times after hitting the ground.
The instant Ao Fei fell, he forced himself back up. But he had just exerted all his strength, and his blood was already surging through his body. With both arms severed, his body was like an inflated balloon that had suddenly sprung two holes. Hot blood sprayed and gushed out in torrents, almost heedless of his life. Then Ao Fei staggered and fell again.
The drifting blood mist splashed onto Lian Youming as well. He lowered his eyes to his shirt, then looked at Ao Fei, who lay on the ground but kept trying to get up, and walked toward him.
Ao Fei also knew his death was approaching, but he was not about to submit meekly. He actually managed to stand on his ruined body, using the broken bone of his left arm as a blade as he advanced, a vicious light in his eyes.
Whether in praise or lament, Lian Youming said mildly, "Good."
Praise for his refusal to turn back from evil even in death, for being so purely and thoroughly evil; lament that, even reduced to this state, he still struggled on the brink of death, seeking life amid death and victory amid defeat.
That was why killing someone like him was satisfying.
There was no denying that he was a terrifying opponent. Unfortunately, he was old.
Sidestepping his attack, Lian Youming asked slowly, "What's that mysterious man's background?"
Ao Fei thrust with