Killing
In the cultivation room.
It was a simple setup. Mo Wen sword was clearly a person who had trained hard.
When everyone entered, they could tell at first glance. Looking at a warrior, looking at his cultivation room, one could best understand a person's state.
Qin Fengqing's cultivation room was empty.
Fang Ping's cultivation room had nothing but a cushion.
The others were more or less the same.
Some second-generation martial artists liked to make their own cultivation rooms gaudy, rich, and magnificent. They had a lot of weapons. Such people had almost no future.
In the cultivation room, there was only one futon.
At first, Fang ping did not care about this. Jiang Chao, who was walking around aimlessly, suddenly kicked the futon away. Fang ping was just about to curse and tell this guy not to run around.
At this moment, Fang Ping's eyes shifted slightly, looking at the line of words under the futon.
"Come, read it!"