Yang Zhao's voice carried a hint of a smile, yet it was also laced with a chilling intent. Beneath his feet, the vegetation slowly withered away, eroded by the coldness he exuded. It was unable to withstand the faint power radiating from his Primordial Spirit Perfection.
This aura merely hovered in the immediate vicinity, refusing to spread further. An invisible barrier blocked its diffusion.
A gentle breeze swept past, rustling the tips of Jiang Man's hair. Beneath those strands, his eyes remained as calm as ever. He seemed entirely oblivious to the oppressive aura of power surrounding him.
"Are you going to kill me, Senior Brother?" Jiang Man asked suddenly.
