"Make way, or die!" Lin Mu's garments fluttered, his gaze icy cold. If someone sought death, he did not mind obliging.
Rahman's arm was broken, his previous arrogance gone. His gaze toward Lin Mu was now filled with a new level of fear.
Inside the Divine Temple, Habi's legs trembled and his teeth chattered. Only now did he realize how lucky he had been. If that last blow had been any heavier, his body would have been torn to pieces.
Eastern Martial Artists are indeed terrifying. Du Le stared at the ethereal Lin Mu, his heart filled with envy and resentment. The True God is so unjust. Why show such favoritism to that Eastern nation? First, there was the Divine Sword Saint Shen Lang of the Divine Continent. Then came Lin Wudi, the living myth. And now, another mysterious Eastern powerhouse has appeared. Every single one of them is a peerless talent.
