Bam!
An old man who was soaked in blood fell on the road in front of him.
Cough.
The old man looked up. With a pale-looking face, he looked towards the trees and bushes at the roadside with a despairing expression.
"Mo Qinglong, you can't run away. Hand over the thing now, and I'll let you have a peaceful death."
Soon after, an angry bellow was heard, Wang Xian saw eight men rushing towards his side.
They were like the martial arts experts on the television who leaped onto the tree branch and landed on the road in front of him.
The eight of them were dressed uniformly in black costumes. The swords in their hands were flickering with cold radiance under the moonlight.
A middle-aged man in the center stepped forward and glared coldly at the elder on the ground.
