"Ling'er!"
An hysterical roar broke out as Chen Luo pushed through the onlookers. He looked at the blood on the ground, his body trembling, his face filled with utter despair.
People around snapped back to their senses and frightened, they retreated.
"Be on guard!"
A middle-aged Cultivator shouted sternly. He instinctively looked towards Yang Jian.
Only a Saint King could have the means to execute Xu Ling directly in their presence.
Yang Jian looked up, his Divine Sense rapidly extending, but failed to capture any suspicious presence.
Chen Luo knelt in front of the blood, unable to accept the reality before him. Just a moment ago, he had felt like the happiest man in the world, but now he felt as though he had fallen into hell.
Xiaochuan in Yang Jian's arms seemed to feel something too and began to cry loudly, but Chen Luo could no longer pay attention to him.
The patriarch of the Chen family approached Yang Jian and asked with a frown, "Saint King, what's going on?"