Plop!
The Undead at the front was hit by a rolling pin and fell to the ground.
Its body started to wither visibly.
"Damn it! It's this thing again!"
Larkin Davenport instinctively took a step back.
Unstoppable!
Although he knew the weapon's effect was limited, the initial strikes could still kill.
He looked up in the direction from which the rolling pin had flown.
Nothing.
"Who's there! Who's pretending to be a ghost!" Larkin Davenport hid behind the Undead Tribe, shouting loudly.
There was no response.
"Fine! Since you act without virtue, don't blame me for being ruthless!" Larkin Davenport said, but his eyes continued to scan around.
Nothing changed.
It was very quiet.
The rolling pin seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
Even more strangely, the sword cultivators were also carefully observing, clearly unaware of what had happened.
Who could it be?
Demarco Mount's remnants?
However.
