In the peripheral vision, that military Invoker was running toward us: "You all, wait..."
"The south is not safe," the instructor shouted: "It's best if you leave this place with us...!"
"Please take others away."
Fang Hong glanced at the other person and replied.
He had his own objective, he had to head south, whether it's the real threat from the Dragon Worship Sect or the current situation, everything needed an answer.
With a 'click', he adjusted the Pride of the Lonely King in his hand, gently gripping the pitch-black Dragon's Claw, and started moving forward. At the same time, with his left hand, he unfastened the bronze buttons of his coat one by one, and forcefully tugged it open—the coat flared like a flag with a 'swish'—a screeching sound, an undead vulture was enveloped within it, and dragged the coat, crashing into a nearby rock, rolling far away.
