With Lianhua's loyalist elders having spent their lives in a final, futile blaze of glory, she was now truly, utterly alone. The vast, bloody arena held no allies for her, only a sea of enemies.
Fu Yan and the Third Elder, Song Wei, hovered in the air, their Core Formation auras pressing down on her, their faces masks of triumphant contempt. They knew they had already won. The only thing left was to savor the kill.
'They're dead,' Lianhua's mind whispered, a cold, hollow space opening in her chest. 'Guan... Ping... Elder Su... all dead. They sacrificed themselves for me. For the sect. And Fu Yan... this animal... he will pay. He will pay!'
She suppressed her grief, turning it to a cold, hard, white-hot rage.
