Seeing the state of Yan Chuan, Lin Xiaotian nearly retched, his throat tightening as a wave of disgust rose uncontrollably. The closer he looked, the worse it felt, as if the very sight was enough to disturb one's state of mind.
His brows furrowed as he forced himself to steady his breathing, suppressing the urge. "What… happened to him?"
Hearing this, Han Leu showed no remorse, his expression calm, almost indifferent, as if what stood before them was nothing more than something that deserved its fate. "If you truly knew what kind of people they are," he said slowly, "you would think what I did to this beast… was mercy."
His voice did not rise, yet there was a faint coldness within it. "I killed the fleeing Golden Core, then captured him. He tried to die through demonic deviation, forcefully reversing his Qi, but I suppressed it before he could succeed."
His gaze shifted toward Yan Chuan, cold and steady. "He refused to speak. Not a word."
