"Wait a minute!"

Ye Cheng had hardly walked a few steps before he was stopped by someone else. He looked back at the man in front of him. Under his grey hair, he had a very young face.

"Listen to your accent from the East China Sea? The third team?

"Dude of Sanye!"

The young man stared at Yecheng for a long time and waved! Ye Cheng did not move, the palm wind fell toward his face, then gently picked up his finger, hit off his hat, showing a dark face.

"You can go back!"

Ye Cheng picked up his hat and went to the tent used by the mercenaries....