However, the driver's shouts only lasted twice.
A dark shadow shot out, chopping a palm onto the back of his head.
The driver fell to the ground with a thud, like a chopped log.
His eyes rolled back, and he immediately fainted.
The figure picked up the driver and brought him back, stuffing him into the driver's seat of the taxi.
In the dim night, one could see the figure's shiny bald head, without a single hair, and his whiskery mustache.
His face was full of wrinkles, exuding an aura of sleazy wretchedness.
If Yang Fei saw this figure, he would definitely scream in alarm.
This figure was none other than Yang Fei's master, Old Silver Stick Shou Jing Gong.
Huang Da's eyes widened desperately trying to recall the impression of this sly-looking old man from his fading consciousness.
Suddenly, a strange, muddled sound came from Huang Da's throat.
"You... you are the thief who stole the Sacred Object, the man Eldest Senior Brother is looking for—it's you."
