Chapter 327: The Trump Card

There was no despair, nor a death-embracing resolution; he knew he wouldn't die. He vividly remembered that when he was a child, the blind elder in the village divined his future, telling him that he was the Heavenly Fox Star, the Demon Lord of Mayhem, destined to live for a hundred years.

Whether those words were just a joke from the old blind man, or perhaps born out of boredom to tease Yang Fan, Yang Fan always felt that his end had not yet come. The old brute before him could not take his life.

Perhaps it was an innate intuition, one that Yang Fan wholeheartedly believed in.

Grasping the bloody soil, Yang Fan tried to rise, squirming like a caterpillar for a moment before collapsing weakly to the ground, gasping for air. The taste of blood surged into his throat, making him want to vomit. Unable to vomit, he endured the tormenting dry cough, uncomfortable in the throat, yet powerless to do anything.