"Lord Su, don't let this pretty boy fool you!"
A group of "townsfolk" armed with sabers, spears, and Crossbow Arrows emerged from the buildings where they had been ambushing Pei Yuhang and flooded into the street.
The middle-aged man in the lead, who had a hideous scar running across his cheek from the corner of his mouth, was none other than the same vendor who had given Little Yueqiu the candied hawthorns.
His bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at the calm-faced Pei Yuhang, dressed in white. A withered, trembling finger pointed at him as the man shrieked:
"Just look at this pretty boy!"
"He's fought so many masters in a row, how could he not be exhausted at all? He didn't kill the Sword King Pavilion's Pavilion Master and let the Abbot of Jinshan Temple and the others leave. That just proves he's at the end of his rope!"
"He must be at the end of his rope now!"
