The First Heir

Wynn was wearing a pair of high heels. When she walked to Philip, her heels clicked on the ground like a piano recital. She looked panic-stricken.

She was a woman, after all. The smell of blood was in the air, and there were broken arms scattered all over the floor. Each severed limb was covered in blood. She wanted to vomit, but she held it in.

30 to 40 men were trying to chop someone up in broad daylight. The scene looked like a warzone, and the ground was painted with blood.

If Philip were not here, she could not imagine what would have happened instead.

Philip looked at Wynn who was standing next to him. There was a gentle smile on his face.

Just like that, under everyone’s watchful gaze, Philip reached out an arm and grabbed Wynn’s tiny waist.

Wynn shivered. She looked at Philip in disbelief.

Was Philip still her spineless husband?

When did he have these skills? He looked like an assassin in the movies.

Philip chuckled and grabbed Wynn’s hand. He asked, “Are you ready?”

Wynn furrowed her brows and let out a long exhale. “I’m ready.”

Then, Philip walked out with Wynn while everyone watched.

An unexplainable feeling rose into Wynn’s heart when Philip grabbed her hand. The worries in her heart vanished in an instant.

in front of them all backed away and made

the air of the God of Death radiating from his body. His imposing manner

clenched his fists. They were turning purple from being clenched so tightly. He grabbed his saber and pointed at Philip who was approaching him. He yelled, “Chop him to pieces! Whoever kills him, I’ll let

he said that, someone finally

an eye, that person flew backward like a streamline. With a thud, he fell and rolled backward on the ground. Then, he was

who were backing away, Mitch’s heart was engulfed with flames of

lifted his knife and stood forward.

Clank!

of knives making contact with each other resounded, then a broken blade flew across the air and landed on

in his hand and placed it against Mitch’s neck. The bloody knife slashed

His left hand was still holding the knife in a chopping

cold sweat and beads of it were rolling down his face like a waterfall. At this moment, he felt

entire body was shaking. He had lost the will to

was drenched in blood, and he was holding the hand of the beautiful woman. He had a knife against Mitch’s neck, yet his face was calm. It was as if he would take his life in the

like sharp knives. It broke his final line of defense,

threat of death so up close that it

normal reaction to being faced with

up his nose and snorted. “Sir Mitch, I don’t think you can do well in the face of fear.

limp. His clothes were already drenched with his sweat. He did not have

beg for mercy

cross this God of Death? He was really digging his

doing something so dangerous for

he thought back to how he threatened Philip just now, he