Having braved a hundred battles, his strength was formidable, and he was known for his righteousness—a good friend of Zhao Meiying for many years.
"We're not out of danger yet, it's not time to rest." Ran Dong spoke in a low voice, as if he sensed something, his muscles tensing involuntarily. His face, full of curly whiskers, also bore an unusually solemn expression.
"You..." Zhao Meiying was momentarily stunned.
Following Ran Dong's gaze, she immediately saw under the bright, cold moonlight, a streak of blood light rising. It tinged the few thin clouds in the sky with a sinister and dangerous dark red. The powerful aura of slaughter was unmistakable; it wasn't like that of an assassin but rather like a berserker who reveled in carnage and had a nature bent on killing.
The moment she felt that aura, Zhao Meiying's face turned pale, "That person is..."
"Exactly!" Ran Dong nodded, "Blood Demon General, Galuo."