Everyone has fears.
The Death Soldiers before weren't afraid, simply because they hadn't encountered Yang Jing.
Fu Tianhua and Tan Wanrong were scared to the point of being utterly terrified, utterly intimidated, while Fu Jiuyou was slightly better off, but still trembling.
However, Yang Jing didn't stop.
With a cold glance, the remaining black-clothed Death Soldiers quivered. They exchanged looks and, steeling themselves, charged forward.
Yang Jing sneered coldly, rushing into the midst of the black-clothed Death Soldiers, his axe drawing arcs of death.
Pfft!
With a horizontal swing of his axe, he bisected a man at the waist, his innards spilling out, blood splattering everywhere.
Boom!
A punch smashed down, a head exploded, white brain matter and red blood spraying together.
Bang!
