"Who the hell are you, brat?"
A short, white-robed middle-aged man turned around and glared at Ye Hanjun.
No matter how you looked at it, the Desert Witch was teetering on the brink of death, barely clinging to her last breath.
If they missed this last chance to save her, and failed to provide timely assistance, the rare witch's Fond Spirit would be claimed by fate.
"I said, stop!"
Ye Hanjun, his eyes narrowed, repeated for the second time.
In spite of his pale skin and overall weak aura...
Even his voice was feeble, far from comparable to Master Bing's booming tone.
However, the short man inexplicably swallowed the curse words that had risen to his lips.
The three men and three beasts standing by also mysteriously ceased their actions.
Their gaze shifted back and forth before ultimately resting on Bingji, as if awaiting his final order.
"Reason."
Master Bing sneered, his eyes cold.
