Arm, broken.

Standing next to Ye Yao, the young man in black clothes covered his arm with death, and his blood sprayed out crazily, dyeing a large area of the ground red.

The broken arm is his, not Ye Yao.

"What's going on here?"

There stood a slender and handsome young man, wearing a elegant white dress, clean and clean, giving a sense of elegance and coldness, holding a sword and blood dripping sword in his hand.

A very strong sword.

Ye Dun sighed in his heart that the sword was too fast and too fierce. In the moment of cutting off his arm, he also cut off the steel...