When the lonely setting sun waved, the dead leaves of life shrank into a withered leaf, and lightning flew into his hand. His face was slightly pale. Obviously, he was not feeling well at the moment.

looking at the lonely setting sun, Chen Yang said, "hand in the pestle of the God of war, and I can spare you from dying."

the lonely setting sun suddenly felt humiliated and humiliated. His face changed sharply, from pale to red. He said angrily, "Zong Han, do you want the war god pestle? I tell you, it's never going to happen. "

Chen Yang sighed and said, "you and I have no injustice...