"He's dead! The Curved Blade Martial Artist is dead!"
Wang Yuechi wiped the blood from his face and roared hoarsely, "Lord Su Yu has won! Kill them! Kill every last one of these bastards!"
That furious roar was the straw that broke the camel's back.
The refugees gazed at the figure standing there, saber in hand, like a veritable God of Slaughter. The madness in their eyes was instantly replaced by terror.
"Run… Run! Everyone, run!"
It was unclear who shouted it first, but the once-ferocious tide of refugees instantly broke, scattering and wailing as they fled into the darkness.
CLANG!
Su Yu flicked the blood from his blade, sheathing Mo Yuan.
He let out a long, turbid breath, his tense muscles slowly relaxing.
