"Damn Julius Reed, every time I run into you, I'm the one who gets screwed!"
Terry Moore, carrying Quella Radcliffe on his back, cursed breathlessly.
Last time in Gonzalez City, he slept in a haystack, unable to get a proper meal.
This time, he was being chased to kill!
Behind him, the elite disciples of Ghost Valley were pursuing him relentlessly with long knives in hand.
Originally, facing these people, Terry Moore still stood a chance.
But he had been seriously injured during a fight with Bartley Hawthorne.
His combat abilities were greatly diminished.
Moreover, carrying Quella Radcliffe on his back while running had further weakened his body.
"Julius, it's one thing for you to screw me over, but now even your own wife?"
Terry Moore looked at the pitch-black intersection ahead of him and felt utterly desperate.
They had agreed to keep running south, and not even gods could catch them.
