The moonlight is like frost, and the silent forest resembles ink.
The mottled moon shadows pour down through the gaps between the leaves, sketching ghostly patterns on the ground.
As soon as Qin An finished speaking, the entire wasteland plunged into a deathly silence.
In this suffocating stillness, three figures flickered like specters among the shadows of the trees.
In the blink of an eye, the elusive silhouettes abruptly solidified, landing in front of Qin An with a few strides.
Qin An focused his gaze, a hint of gravity flashing in his eyes.
The aura of these three people was as deep as a mountain, pressing down like ice that halted even breathing.
The leader was a middle-aged man in black, toying with a gleaming dagger in his hand.
The dagger twirled between his fingers, like a snake flickering its tongue.
"Since when did the Mountain Patrol Silver Guards produce such characters?" The man's eyes held a playful smile.
