Mistwater River, thick fog, on a small Spirit Boat.
The Water Yama was rowing at the bow, Xie Liu held his sword, standing at the stern, glaring menacingly at the three of Mo Hua.
Ouyang Feng was healing his wounds, Hua Qianqian pressed her lips together, her gaze somewhat uneasy.
Mo Hua, however, looked curious, glancing left and right, as if enjoying the riverside scenery on a leisurely trip.
However, it was nighttime, and the fog was thick.
There was nothing in the surroundings for him to see.
Mo Hua asked: "Hey, where exactly are we going?"
Xie Liu's forehead twitched.
Mo Hua's casual and somewhat joyful demeanor sparked anger within him.
As if amongst this group of people, the Water Yama was a boatman rowing, he was a guard holding a sword, and Mo Hua was a young master out on a trip, asking where they were headed.
That damned little fool, does he not understand his current situation at all?
Does he have no sense at all?
