The next second, something astounding happened. The two strands of hair, under Qiliang's force, became as straight as steel wires, carrying a cold killing aura, and in an instant, they were in front of Wei Hu.
Wei Hu was sitting on the ground at this moment, unable to move due to his broken arms and legs, and he could only watch as the deadly hair flew closer.
In his heart, he lamented that his life was about to be ended by the subordinates he had personally cultivated, it seemed people always have to pay for their sins.
"Puff, puff!"
Accompanied by two soft sounds, the hair, like steel needles, pierced Wei Hu's throat, and sharply protruded from the back of his neck. Blood flowed down the hair tips, quickly staining the ground red.
Wei Hu's eyes widened, filled with disbelief and reluctance, the dragon had not yet been leveled, he could not die.
