The night was like a veil. It covered all of Beiluo City in a misty glow.
Lu Changkong was in his cold, hard armor, and was riding on a Ferghana horse. He took in a deep breath, and smelled the thick stench of blood.
He trembled slightly.
Could it be that… Mo Tianyu had correctly predicted his son's fate?
Had Lu Fan really fallen into the hands of the three major aristocratic families and Sword Sect?
His back suddenly slouched a little.
Luo Yue quietly followed behind Lu Changkong. He also clearly smelled the blood in the air.
He was holding the horse's reins tightly, and his face was extremely grim.
The sound of wheels rolling against the tiles could be heard as the carriage was pulled along by the horses, drowning out the sound of their hooves.
Mo Tianyu pulled the curtain back and hopped out of the horse carriage, a huge wine flask at his waist. He inhaled deeply, and smelled the stench of blood.
