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A soft whisper sounded in his ear.
"Here they come, right here."
In an instant, Yang Mingli's hair stood on end. Since becoming the General of Southern Defense, it had been years since someone had been able to approach him so silently.
Tribulation power burst from his entire body, instinctively wanting to turn around and look.
However, that pole pressed down on Yang Mingli's shoulder, a plain and ordinary object somehow pinning a formidable Third Grade Expert to the chair.
"Don't move."
The whispering voice was still like a mosquito, yet all three heard a trace of resentment in it.
It was the unwillingness of being oppressed.
This kind of resentment desperately needed a release channel.
"Move again... and I'll beat you to death."
The tall porter gripped the pole with one hand and gently took off his bamboo hat with the other, his mouth splitting open as he licked his white teeth, a menacing grin gradually appearing on his stubbled face.
