Huang Yifu's face was pale, a few of his ribs had been broken by a casual spear thrust from Yang Zhenshan just now, and he was experiencing severe pain in his waist and abdomen, feeling as though a funnel was draining all his strength.
"Please spare me for the sake of Star Moon Sect, General Yang!"
What else could Huang Yifu say? At this moment, all he could do was beg for mercy, and his only reliance was the Star Moon Sect.
"Spare you!"
Yang Zhenshan revealed a cold smile.
Whether to spare someone or not doesn't depend on the face of the Star Moon Sect, but on the actions of these people.
In his eyes, the Star Moon Sect had no face to speak of.
He didn't say anything more but carelessly sat down on a chair.
The chair was wide, with a sheepskin cushion making it very comfortable.
He picked up the wine jar next to him, sniffed the wine inside, then disdainfully put it down.
This bandit's life seemed rather pathetic too!
The drink was likely cheap.
