Meng Yunzheng walked over with his horse. He frowned as he watched the horse leave. "It's the posthouse soldiers."
He was carrying a document bag on his back. He should be delivering urgent documents. Under such circumstances, even if he killed them, they would only be considered unlucky. The post soldiers would not be responsible.
Zhao Xi snorted lightly. "This posthouse soldier's riding skills are not good. We especially found a more spacious place to stop and eat, but he still bumped into us. The place in front is narrow. If..."
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence and looked at Meng Yunzheng. He said in a low voice, "Will something happen?"
In front of them was a group of exiles, and the road should not be as wide as theirs, especially since they had more people and two mule carriages. If that posthouse soldier continued to charge around like before, something would happen.
