Crimson blood wound across the ground, gradually gathering into a small, viscous lake between the two.
Jiang Ding knelt prostrate on the ground, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Song Yan looked down at him from above, his gaze calm and unruffled.
In truth, he had previously held a somewhat favorable impression of the Jiang Family.
Back at Daoyuan Mountain, an elder of the Jiang Family had paid him a visit and been exceedingly courteous.
And with Jiang Gudong in the picture, he could at least say he did not dislike them.
But since they were connected to the Hehuan Sect of the Demon Ruins, there was nothing more to say.
If he killed him, so be it.
As long as Yun Wu did not betray him, he would not bring this up to anyone himself. The Imperial Mausoleum was fraught with danger; dying here was perfectly normal.
Even taking ten thousand steps back, what if Yun Wu really did betray him?
Jun Mountain was no pushover.
"Cough-cough, cough-"
Blood kept spilling from Jiang Ding's mouth and nose. His entire body trembled, his face hideously contorted.
His eyes were filled with resentment as he looked at Song Yan.
More and more blood flowed beneath him, and the crimson puddle grew larger, reflecting both their figures.
It was as though they were standing on the surface of water.
"Hmm?" Song Yan frowned slightly, lowering his gaze to his feet.
There was something strange about Jiang Ding's reflection in the crimson blood.
The face reflected in the bloody water was utterly expressionless.
That face showed no expression, its eyes hollow and deathly still, staring straight through the boundary between illusion and reality at Song Yan.
Something's wrong!
Alarm flared in Song Yan's heart, and he immediately raised his hand.
A streak of Sword