Inside the grand hall, the silence was as deep as an abyss.
The sticky, ink-like Evil Qi flowed silently in the void, a few wisps of ghostly green flames floated in the air.
Chu Zheng's gaze landed on the Emperor Palace, now as lifeless as a dead object.
The moment his gaze touched the cold blade, the turbulent emotions in Chu Zheng's eyes seemed frozen by an invisible chill, gradually calming down, making him more clear-headed than ever.
His gaze returned to Song Lingxue's face, his tone low:
"So, you want me to... kill my wife to survive?"
"I'm not your wife."
Song Lingxue shook her head slightly, panting, struggling to gather her remaining Qi Strength, she continued: "The last time we met... you asked me a question... I... have yet to answer you..."
"At that time, you asked me... if it's the Zheng of Chu Zheng, or the Zheng of Zheng Chu."
