At this moment, as Tang Zhong swung his sword, those who wanted to kill him were all lazily cut in half at the waist, their bodies falling directly into pools of blood on the ground, their expressions frozen as if they were still alive—an instant before death, their faces hadn't changed at all.
He had killed the people around him.
Grasping the Black Blade, Tang Zhong noted that there wasn't a single drop of blood on the tip of the blade, then he turned to look at Blood Hand, a cold sneer on his face.
Blood Hand stared at Tang Zhong intently, his gaze sharp as an eagle's. It was important to note that his men were all class-S fighters, yet now, they had been slaughtered as easily as dogs—an unbelievable sight to anyone. Even Blood Hand himself would have found them difficult to kill so effortlessly. Tang Zhong's methods had utterly surpassed his imagination.
But the thought of all his men being killed was enough to stir Blood Hand's desire to kill.
