Thud!
A head fell into the dust.
His hair and beard were wild, his eyes wide open, still retaining the expression he had in life, just without a trace of spirit in those eyes.
Watching the large group of enemies fleeing in all directions, Wang Chen sheathed the Qijue Sword.
It wasn't that he was too tired to kill; rather, under his ferocious assault, the entire enemy army had completely collapsed, and continuing to pursue and slaughter those little 'Shrimps' was meaningless.
It was also a waste of time.
As for those fearless enemies who wanted to avenge their commander, they now lay helter-skelter around Wang Chen.
He turned and headed back to the Hanhai Taoist Palace.
At this time, the palace gates were wide open, and a troop of badly wounded warriors came out to greet him.
"Greetings, National Master!"
They all knelt on one knee, each face showing an extremely excited and thrilled expression.
