The storyteller smiled and said: "But the prestige is certainly a bit prestige. What qualifications do you have to take someone from others?"

His hand tightened again, and the dying letter immediately withered.

This time, he couldn't even keep the spiritual platform clear and fainted on the spot.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

 Everyone was dumbfounded.

The people in red at the very back didn't even dare to move.

 They all know that "Saint Slave" is a very strong storyteller.

 But in the past, being strong towards this person was just a conceptual thing.

　Now I have seen it with my own eyes, this...

 No one can stop it!

Even a letter, in the hands of a storyteller, is like a giant baby, letting him manipulate it?

 “This is gone?”

The storyteller looked at the big man who was completely unconscious and couldn't help but wrinkle his nose, "I can't help but play."

Lan Ling stretched out his hand to suppress the angry people behind him, and slowly said: "I know you won't kill anyone, at least, you won't want to kill Hongyi."

 “You know, this won’t do you any good at all.”

 The storyteller suddenly narrowed his eyes: "Are you threatening others again?"

 His hand tightened again.

Lan Ling hurriedly took a step forward, "Wait!"

"Um?"

“It’s not a threat. Your opponent, not Hongyi, kills people here. After he gets out, not only you, but also all of you ‘Saint Slaves’ will be in danger.”

 She paused and then added: "This sentence is not a threat, I am just stating a fact."

　　The storyteller let go of his hand and weighed the big piece in his hand forward a few times.

 It’s quite heavy!

“Although you keep saying it’s not a threat, it still sounds like a threat.”

 “Anyway, if these words fall into people’s ears...”

 The storyteller closed his eyes and thought for a while, then said: "I'm very unhappy, listen."

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Lan Ling asked back.

"yes."

The storyteller actually admitted it and said with a smile: "You are very smart. At least among these people, you should be the smartest one."

He placed the letter in the void in front of him, took out a handkerchief from the ring and wiped the blood, saying: "I really don't want to kill people, but everyone is in trouble, so I have to take action. Okay

Do you understand?"

"Can."

Lan Ling nodded and stretched out her hand, "Send the person here first?" She gestured with her lips to the letter lying in the void.

 “Boom!”

 The storyteller kicked the person away with one kick.

 “Remember.”

“The person can return it to you, but it’s because he doesn’t like killing people. It’s not your threat that matters.”

"Understand?"

 Shouye received the letter and immediately took a mouthful of elixir.

 He clenched his fists tightly but said nothing.

Hei Ming, who had no dealings with Lan Ling at all, had no trouble seeing Xin being beaten before, but this time when he heard the storyteller's words, he couldn't help but get furious.

 This is simply too disrespectful of people.

 But, take action?

 Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the people around him.

There is absolutely no one here who is a match for the man in the red dress.

 Even if everyone joins together, it may not be enough for one person to hold with one hand.

how to spell?

After wiping the blood, the storyteller threw away the handkerchief, looked around at the crowd and said, "It's better if you all stay calm. I've said you won't kill anyone."

“As long as you don’t make any noise, nothing will happen to you.”

 “I came here not for you, but...”

At this moment, a chirping sound came from behind.

The Holy War Black Angel, who was teleported away earlier, has returned and attacked, holding a four-sword in his hand, and struck at the Storyteller closest to him.

"ah!"

 The storyteller clenched his fists angrily and stamped his feet fiercely.

“Why do people always like to interrupt me when I’m talking?”

He turned around angrily, glaring at the black sword energy coming in front of him, and slashed across the air with his hand.

 “Shut up, okay?!”

 A high-pitched roar sounded.

 The black sword energy that came towards him was directly divided into two.

　　The storyteller stretched out his hand, and the void twisted again.

The Holy War Black Angel is like a moth flying into a flame, directly sending his neck into the opponent's hands.

 “Chi!”

　　Taking out a dagger from his arms, the storyteller suddenly cut it across, and his head was lifted high into the sky by a pillar of blood.
Chapter completed!