Mangus had been watching for changes on Lian Youming's side all along. He was still hoping those dozen or so Foresight masters could stir up some trouble. As long as Gu Xuantong succeeded, people like them could at least get a share of the spoils.
Yet, unbelievably, in just three or four breaths, more than half of those people had died.
And each had died more horribly than the last.
It was truly like seeing a ghost.
Worse still, Lian Youming was coming to kill him, spear in hand.
Before he arrived, a blood-reeking wind swept in.
His voice drifted over with it.
"Old ghost, you really have no sense! Always wading into muddy waters like these! You turn up everywhere!"
Lian Youming's voice was somewhat low and hoarse, as though millions of grains of sand had scraped through his throat.
Suddenly, the silver spear's cold gleam thrust into the fray.
Lian Youming closed in with Divine Mobility and locked onto his enemy with Supreme Killing Intent. Like a streak of cold lightning, he flashed through the air. An Old-Era Martial Artist fighting Yu Feishuang had his chest pierced before he could even scream, a spray of bloody mist lifted from him.
Fast! Precise! Ruthless!
Mangus's expression darkened.
For some reason, whenever he saw Lian Youming's death-defying madness, he always felt an inexplicable wariness.
Once there was a first time, there would be a second, and after a second, a third.
The old fellow had retreated once back on the Western Sacred Mountain. Now, seeing Lian Youming killing with mounting fervor, his eyes red with slaughter, he rather regretted coming in.
As he saw it, he should have stayed hidden during this battle and quietly reaped a fortune.
"Retreat!"
Without the slightest hesitation, seeing Lian Youming closing straight in,