Indeed, Du Ruhui would no longer make a move personally, and indeed, Yisheng Feng was now too occupied to protect himself. Whether or not he would encounter someone so daring as to disregard the dignity of Qi Country, it was hard to say.
He grasped his sword, each step he took was steady.
In one's life, for the most part, one needs to walk alone.
He had long been accustomed to it.
Long been accustomed to it.
"Hey, friend!"
Just by the city gate, a strange-looking youth called out to him.
The youth appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, wearing silk clothes, a colorful belt around his waist, boots on his feet, and a bronze box with intricate patterns painted on it on his back.
He had short hair reaching his ears, and on his face were a few symmetrical streaks of greasepaint, which did not conceal his handsome features. His bright eyes were fixed on Jiang Wang... the Ruyi Immortal Clothes beneath the conical hat.
