Rotting leaves in the bushes made a soft, rustling sound beneath their feet. Chǔ Hóngzhuāng’s nails almost dug into Ye Fan’s palm—a habit she had since childhood: the stronger her killing intent, the colder her fingertips became.
"That old dog Ma San said 'young boys and girls'." Her lowered voice was wrapped in a coldness like Gu poison. "My father sent twelve teams of people to the border villages last month under the guise of 'taking disciples', but it turns out they were all capturing live targets."
Ye Fan looked in the direction where Ma San and the others had vanished, the strings of the Jiuxiao Huanpei vibrating faintly at his waist. He had seen too many evil deeds committed in the name of a "sect" in his past life, yet at this moment his throat still tightened with fury—the cries of those children seemed to have already pierced the morning mist and crashed into his Inner World.
Chapter 143