Ecstasy, greed, urgency, madness, bewilderment...
These emotions swept through the crowd like a tidal wave.
But as Fang Qingyu was about to scan all these people over...
No title of Martial Saint was found.
Until the moment when the golden light was about to fade.
Fang Qingyu's gaze suddenly sharpened.
He locked onto a few figures at the edge of the surging crowd, appearing equally excited as they ran forward.
They were dressed in ordinary mercenary cold-weather gear, unremarkable amidst the crowd.
Their faces bore just the right amount of excitement and urgency.
However, deep within Fang Qingyu's Melted Gold vertical pupils, the special title above their heads, illuminated briefly by the golden light, was clearly reflected...
[Yunhua Envoy]
Not just one.
But as many as seven.
They seemed to be running along with the crowd, but their steps were steady, their aura restrained, maintaining a subtle formation that shielded a small area at the rear in the center.
