"Li Zhao!"
Li Wu climbed up from the ground, staring in horror at the scene before him.
Then, he saw the "owner" of this foot.
High Priest of Hejian!
"You did well."
The familiar childlike voice of the High Priest rang out, but at this moment it felt like an icy river in the deep winter penetrating Li Wu and Han Zhan's hearts.
When did the High Priest arrive!
Why did they not notice at all!
With so many warriors of the Jiuli Race sacrificed, why did he not act at all?!
Could it be as Li Zhao said, he considered them as pawns that could be discarded at any time.
In an instant, many thoughts raced through Li Wu's mind.
But no matter how much he thought, it couldn't change one fact.
Li Zhao was dead.
This Priest, who was quite talented in management and admired by the whole Chuyun Stockade, was stomped to death by the High Priest of Hejian.
The High Priest of Hejian slowly lifted his right foot.
In the sunken pit of mud lay a bloody, mangled corpse.
