Wu Deze felt a cold stream coursing through his veins.
He looked at the young man in white in front of the stone table, his expression indifferent, and the Parthian soldiers with crossbows drawn behind him. On either side were two servants in cyan robes. Because of the sudden change, his mind was somewhat confused, but he quickly calmed down, looking at that white robe, with one thought after another emerging.
This is, Wang Xingyuan?! How could he be here?!
No, how long has he been here?
Why is he here?!
A string of questions rose in his heart, each bringing a bigger problem. With a formidable enemy before him, Wu Deze did not dare to think further, and could not help but take a deep breath, looking ahead, gripping the short dagger in his right hand, and taking out poison with his left hand.
His heart was restless, and his gaze flickered.
The armor on the waist of the Parthian soldiers had rather coarse fur hanging down, giving it a somewhat rugged appearance.
