On matters like this, the Three Great Holy Lands were uncharacteristically unanimous, always maintaining a stance of cracking down hard!
Zhang Deming's expression changed dramatically, and he took several steps back. Without a second thought, he said, "Let's go. We'll head back for today and figure this out later…"
Before he could finish, Zhang Deming froze. Not far behind him, standing before Yang Guangfu, a weathered middle-aged man had appeared out of nowhere.
He had an upright posture and a refined, scholarly face, yet his expression was one of profound melancholy and sorrow. His mature, handsome features seemed to hide countless tales of heartbreak.
This bearing was completely unlike that of a farmer. An aura like this would likely hold a deadly allure for naive young women.
But what sent a chill down Zhang Deming's spine was that the middle-aged man was now calmly watching him with impenetrable eyes, a pair of pitch-black orbs that resembled a bottomless abyss.
