Ricky Roger's own wounds were no less than twenty, from foot to face, with ragged clothes and scars on his face.

The blood spilled out and fell down, and he became a bloody man, but he did not give up. His right hand still clutched the sword tightly, still raised his head, looked at me angrily, and his eyes were red.

Still unconvinced?

"You know what? If Namibe is not my less vigilant, you can't catch my friend. I won't fall into your hands at all. You can only rely on more people to bully fewer people. If you leave your family behind, regardless of strength or brains, you are...