"Get lost!"
The black-armored youth on the left wasn't a stranger—it was Lucian Cross!
In the past, the Northern Army had planted a hidden agent.
He had once followed Braydon Neal from his hometown to fight under the stars.
Now, he was a regimental commander of the Northern Army.
Later, the Northern Army split into smaller units, with the soldiers scattered throughout the Immortal Burial Ground.
Lucian drew the sword from his waist, unleashing a cold, deadly intent.
Boom!
A blood-soaked aura of killing intent filled the entire third floor.
Immortal supreme realm!
The immortal supreme's face changed.
He hadn't expected a second expert to be hiding here.
He didn't dare respond.
Instead, he curled up in front of the bookshelf, trying to continue comprehending the immortal king technique.
But Lucian had spoken—and he told him to scram!
"I said, get lost!"
