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The voice was filled with coldness.
In the tavern, there had been quite a few diners, but upon witnessing this scene, they all paused for a moment, and then all began to flee desperately to the outside. Standing outside the tavern was a burly man, who let the ordinary people dash past him before he himself stepped inside.
His eyes indifferent, he scanned the tavern and spotted Chuan Lian, clad in light green attire, his face growing chillier.
With a swift motion, his shoulder blurred as something turned into a shadowy streak rushing towards Wang Anfeng's table. It was a pitch-black object, square and regular - indeed, it was a coffin. Wang Anfeng's right hand shot up to grab the hilt of the wooden sword behind him, but at that moment, Chuan Lian had already floated up, his eyes slightly opened, a trace of pure white Qi Force flashing through them.