"May I ask who you are? Why skulk around in the shadows, afraid to show your face?"
The Saint Heir walked to where the tree had been broken and stopped, staring straight ahead.
Their attempt to invite me into the vat may very well be their own undoing.
Had it been in the city, the Saint Heir might have been concerned about the impact and chosen not to make a move.
But on this scarcely travelled road, anyone seeking discomfort, the Saint Heir wouldn't mind sending them to meet God.
Of course, it might also mean descending to hell.
"The one who will kill you naturally can't stay hidden." Julius Reed, clad in a black robe, slowly walked to the middle of the road, less than ten meters away from the Saint Heir.
"Heh, as expected of petty thieves, you don't even dare to reveal your true face! But I won't kill you; I will make your life a living hell." The Saint Heir was not in a rush to act; in his eyes, the other party was not even worthy of being called an opponent.
