Zhang Ruochen and Huang Yanchen rushed towards Zi Qian at their fastest speed.
They still arrived too late. Zi Qian was nowhere to be found: All they could see was a dark mist with a radius of around 300 meters.
"Who the hell are you people?"
Zhang Ruochen drew his Snow Dragon Sword and glared at the mist cloud.
Thanks to his strong Spiritual Power, he could sense the position of their enemies.
In the distance, he heard the sound of footsteps echoing from the dark, misty miasma.
Many warriors in shabby clothes emerged from the mist. Some were old warriors in their seventies, some were bearded, middle-aged male warriors, and some were female warriors.
More than 70 of them emerged from the mist. Though their clothes were shabby and they looked particularly down on their luck, their gazes were sharp and utterly murderous. Each one of them was a first class warrior.
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