Ren Chen spoke calmly, "Do they match? Do you have the power to oppose us?"
A group from the Ma Clan stared at the dust in the woods; in their eyes, Ren Chen was as ancient as the gods. Even King Yan from Hell couldn't make them strong enough to resist, leaving them only to await fate.
Ren Chen grew up with the death's scythe, later only found himself alone in the vast palace with the military horses, holding a spear with a gaze filled with a leathery, bloody scent.
Because it could take the envelope from Ren Zhen's military horse's savings, consume a drop of blood to restore its peak times, followed by an even greater battle awaiting.
"Bread!"
Hearing the sound from the woods, everything passed by under the sunlight, flew from the palace, and rose in the sky a signal, symbolizing the end of the slaughter and the beginning of another massacre.
