"Heh heh!"
Lin Fan was in an excellent mood. So what if the opponent was three years ahead of him in cultivation?
He still ended up rammed by Lin Fan, not even knowing which way was up.
Feng Yisan felt utterly miserable. His chest was tight, making it difficult to even breathe, and a torrent of blood spewed from his mouth.
He hadn't expected to be injured this badly by this guy.
Seeing the bastard walking toward him, he was desperate to call for help, but his comrades were locked in combat with the enemy, evenly matched or even gaining an upper hand. How did it become like this for him?
What the hell?
Lin Fan approached Feng Yisan. When faced with dropped loot, there was no way he'd let it go.
"Go to hell."
With one strike of his saber, a vibrant life quietly met its end.
The fighting was intense now, leaving no time for idle chatter. To avoid any risks, he had to kill the opponent immediately. If someone else came to finish him off, wouldn't that be a huge loss?
