"Sun Wutian?"
Yan Nan was taken aback, his eyes narrowing: "What happened to him?"
"Mr. Sun has been in a deep sleep recovering, but recently he suddenly coughed up blood continuously..."
All the Old Demons were stunned: "What's going on?"
"Let's go and see."
They quickly left their seats and went together.
A while later, in front of the skeleton-like Sun Wutian who was deeply comatose and barely breathing, everyone looked at each other.
What is going on? How did he suddenly cough up blood again?
But still can't wake up?
You look at me, I look at you, like monks in confusion.
...
Two teams of Martial Artists had quietly approached the Southeast, blending into the Jianghu. One team dressed in black like ink, the other in white like snow.
These were the people from the Netherworld Palace and Qingming Palace.
Lan Xinxue was among the team, her face full of anticipation.
Southeast, here I come.
Brother Fang, here I come.
