"Foolish swordsman!"
The Rothschild Ancestor sneered, "Now the entire country's economic lifeline is connected to us, do you dare to strike?"
Ye Qingzhou looked at the shield that merged financial power with the Blood Race's dark arts, and for the first time, a look of disgust appeared in his eyes. He could see behind each financial symbol on the shield, countless families broken by tragedy; every drop of blood was filled with the despair of ordinary people squeezed dry.
"Using the lives of a nation's populace as hostage?"
Ye Qingzhou placed his right hand on the sword hilt, "You think I care? This curse will be severed by this sword."
The Infinite Sword was unsheathed.
No fancy sword techniques, no dazzling light, just a simple, unadorned slash.
