"Is it over?" Ye Yixian stared at him in a daze.
Ji Wenrui smiled bitterly, "Even the Heavy Profound Forging Immortal Hammer, his natal weapon, has fallen. How can it not be over?"
Ye Yixian gazed blankly at the large hammer in the deep pit.
In Shilong Lane, there was dead silence, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
At this moment, footsteps sounded.
The three turned to see a man wearing a tiger mask approaching. Judging by his build, he was a man, perhaps very young. His long hair hung loose, giving him an ethereal and wild appearance. He wore a thin shirt fluttering in the night wind, yet his steps were extraordinarily steady and firm. His aura was completely restrained, revealing nothing of his depth, identity, or background.
The three only knew he had been playing music deep inside Shilong Lane.
