In the pitch-black night, the cold wind suddenly blew high, sweeping up a few fallen leaves and landing on the roof of the bright hall.
Braydon Neal stood on the roof of the bright hall with his hands behind his back. The bright moon was above his head, and the starlight fell on his white clothes, making him look even more tranquil and indifferent.
"Esteemed guests have arrived. Apologies for not welcoming you!" Braydon smiled faintly.
The honored guests were the twelve bandits of Preston mountains.
The two people who came to the Neal family's manor under the cover of the night were both shocked.
They had not expected that they would be discovered the moment they stepped into this place.
The two of them stopped at the same time and stood on the roof of the bright hall. They did not dare to underestimate the young man in white in front of them.
He could sense the two of them sneaking in.
