"Are you sure you want me to draw my sword?"
Lin Fan's voice was cold, light, and indifferent.
Like mist, wafting lightly, there was no trace of fear on his face.
He was not afraid at all!
Faced with the Black Sword, confronting the darkness, confronting Ling Wudeng.
He managed to remain expressionless, calm, completely different from his demeanor a quarter-hour ago.
Ling Wudeng's eye twitched slightly, his expression growing solemn.
He calmly scrutinized every part of Lin Fan's body, not missing a single facial expression.
Yet he found no flaws.
"Kid! You're too arrogant! You'll die horribly, I'll cut you into pieces, making sure you'll never ascend in eternity!"
The calmer Lin Fan was, the more impatient Ling Wudeng became.
The rage in his heart mysteriously vanished.
That's not right.
He was the one who should be calm.
After all, Lin Fan was clearly his defeated adversary, why did the aura seem like Lin Fan was suppressing him?
