"This dog is really lucky."
Young Master Qi gritted his teeth and sneered. Every action of Number Thirteen was full of mockery in his eyes.
Every second that Number Thirteen lived was a slap to his face!
Lu Chunfeng smiled and consoled him." Luck is not in the hands of others. In the end, strength speaks for itself. He doesn't stand a chance."
"Of course."
Young Master Qi's expression softened a little, and he resisted the urge to intervene in the deathmatch on the battlefield.
At this moment, the other survivor of the three was the No. 8 prisoner who had just drawn the divine bow.
The target that No. 8 aimed at ignored No. 13 once again and aimed directly at Old Man No. 4.
This was normal.
After all, Old Man Number Four's performance just now was indeed a little scary. He looked thin and weak, but in the blink of an eye, he had killed seven people in a row.
