"I shall not rest until the Immortal Buddhists are vanquished!" Xiao Yi declared with fiery eyes, envisioning the imperial city awash with flames and smoke, mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.
Tens of millions of innocents!
All slaughtered by Yang Ling under Huijing's control.
Between heaven and earth,
it seemed as if even the wind had frozen in place.
Only Xiao Yi's deep, angry roar and the crying of the infant in his arms could be heard, an infant not yet a year old, still swathed in swaddling clothes. He should have been cherished by his parents, adored by his family, without a care in the world.
But now...
He was an orphan.
Had Xiao Yi not arrived in time, this infant would have ended up as fodder for Yang Ling, manipulated by Huijing.
Hehehe…
Yang Ling, his face twisted grotesquely, stared at Xiao Yi, his consciousness, however, scream in helplessness and despair: "Help me... Xiao Yi, help me..."
