It was a piece of wild cursive calligraphy. The brushstrokes were like flying dragons and slithering snakes—powerful and majestic, faintly exuding the murderous air of clashing iron and armored horses.
But the script was so messy and wild that anyone not well-versed in calligraphy would find it difficult to recognize at a glance.
Chu Fan tilted his head up slightly, his brow furrowed. He followed the script from left to right, sounding out the characters one by one, "Fuck… all… people…?"
"How bold! As expected of a great personage. Such vision, such ambition..."
BANG!
The sound of his admiration had barely faded when a loud bang echoed from outside the door.
Princess Zhaohua, who had been about to push the door open, had just stepped one foot across the threshold. Upon hearing those four utterly shocking words, she nearly spat out a mouthful of old blood.
