Faced with Zhou Yan's powerful strike, Zhou Wangchen did not fight back.
His gaze was profound and calm.
That kind of gaze seemed to penetrate the might of Zhou Yan's strike, seeing through its essence.
So Zhou Wangchen did not fight back, yet it was the coldest form of resistance.
Zhou Wangchen looked indifferently at the sword aiming at his brow, unmoved, letting it thrust towards his forehead.
However, the sword stopped just a millimeter from his brow, the powerful Sword Qi almost piercing it, causing fresh red blood to flow.
"Fight back, fight back! Aren't you going to pass on the Dao to me? If you can't even fight back, what Dao can you pass on?"
Zhou Yan scolded.
"Fight back?"
Zhou Wangchen smiled slightly, the smile still filled with such sorrow, deep and melancholic.
