Swish, swish.
Ye Fan cut down two guards, the blade in his hand snatched back from Song Meimei; naturally, it belonged to the guards.
With the death of the two guards, the lineup besieging Ye Fan was supplemented by another two.
Ye Fan wielded the Slaying Blade, slashing left and right, seizing every opportunity to eliminate a threat.
"At all costs, kill!" The guards were desperate, fearlessly charging at Ye Fan as if their lives depended on it.
The slaughter continued, yet the Elders witnessing the scene were deeply unsettled.
"Even with this, he remains alive, finding chances to hunt down our people," said the Great Elder, deeply concerned.
"At this rate, things look grim. If Ye Fan isn't killed, we can't die in peace. Half of the guards are already dead. What now?" The Second Elder fretted, eyes wide with anxiety.
The Seventh Elder feigned calm: "He's surely pretending to be strong. I suspect he's at the end of his rope."
