"Sir, what do you need?"
"Sir, may I ask..."
"Sir..."
The voices, almost completely overlapping, kept echoing in his ears, giving him a different sensation from when he was besieged by the crew members before.
The thick malice gathered from strands and threads, washing over Feng Xue's spirit like raging waves. Those eyes—calm, bewildered, numb, or imploring—seemed to be drawn by some force. Each eyeball stared at Feng Xue's eyes, ignoring the carriage and all other obstacles in their path.
"Fuck!" Feng Xue immediately brushed over his pinky ring, and the long-haired girl dressed as a swordsman appeared at his side, her voice clear and cold:
"Orders?"
"Guard."
Knowing the nature of this ghost sealed by the Great White Golden Star, Feng Xue didn't waste words. After uttering two words, he immediately began to move.
