Mo, who had been attacking furiously, suddenly stood still and then cast his terrifying gaze upon Qian Wu.
Yang Zheng finally had a chance to catch his breath. He glanced at his left arm glowing with a crimson haze, which was now covered in cracks, like a fragile, cracked porcelain vase that was about to shatter into pieces in the next second.
Yang Zheng couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh, "If you don't hurry up, I'm really going to lose my life here."
After what seemed like an eternity, Mo managed to suppress the frenzy in his heart. He walked over to Qian Wu, turned his back to him, and bent down, "Get on, I'll carry you."
Qian Wu was hesitant, but then he realized Mo was turning his head to stare at him, his eyes full of an icy, brutal ferocity that seemed ready to erupt. He complied.
