Facing this familiar skepticism, Zhang Ze patted his chest, "Absolutely authentic, a genuine good lad from the Sword Sect."
Wang Ge shook his head, expressing misunderstanding but respect.
Then he turned back to look at the old man in the cell who was still cursing incessantly, preparing to end his life.
But as he watched, his emotions suddenly changed.
He sighed, "Forget it, let him stay here, dying now is too easy for him."
Saying this, he turned and walked out of the prison, his back bleak, like a wandering traveler, releasing a breath he couldn't muster again.
Then....
With a bang, Wang Ge, preoccupied, inadvertently stumbled into an invisible Array, the mana pouring out, striking his spirit platform.
He crouched down, left hand covering his nose, right hand covering his forehead.
The atmosphere of wind sweeping through the cold river vanished without a trace.
Zhang Ze stood behind him, holding a hand gesture, with a string of keys on his finger.
