Banai
Black Glasses exuded a rough, roguish aura, his black backpack slung over one shoulder. With one foot propped on a rock and his elbows resting on his knee, he leaned forward to peer into the modest-sized pit not far away.
His gaze casually swept over Fourth Master and his men. As Black Glasses pulled his eyes back, his thoughts began to wander: What was his Zhaozhao doing at home right now? Was Zhaozhao missing him? Could that brat Zhaozhao even take care of himself properly? When on earth would this damn job finally end? And where the hell had that jerk Mute run off to?
Chapter 417