In the evening, Zhao Xiaoming is resting in the room. Because there are so many wounds on his body, the gauze that bandages the wounds will soon wrap him into a mummy. He is still thinking about what the three Hall Masters said, laughing at the ignorance of the two hall masters. The white horse sect is nothing?

just then, the hall leader came. How about mingzai? Is the injury better? "

"boss, why are you here?" Zhao Xiaoming made a gesture of struggling to sit up from the sofa and salute Wu Tian, but before he straightened his waist, he was pressed down by Wu Tian. "Mingzai, sit down,...