Duan Rong's gaze was cold as he pulled the Minghong Saber from the back of the fortune teller's head.
The tip of the Minghong Saber was smeared with sticky brains. Duan Rong infused Inner Breath, causing the blade to tremble, which flicked the brains onto the ground.
Duan Rong sheathed the saber, his eyes surveying the surroundings.
He had already devised a plan earlier, and without any hesitation, he began to implement it immediately.
This dilapidated temple actually has two exits; besides the temple gate, it also has a collapsed corner, though the piled-up bricks and rubble make the narrow hole inconvenient for passage.
Duan Rong suddenly bent down, ripping off the cuff of his right pant leg, then his figure flashed as he hung the torn cloth onto the ragged wooden spike of a broken pillar at the collapsed corner.
Mountain winds blew in, and the ragged cloth fluttered in the wind...
