The Strategist's Desperate Flight

The moment that arm struck, Baoshi Buddha's expression changed.

He found that aura familiar as well—and feared it.

But this man...

Hadn't he already died?

A flicker of realization passed through Wang Ye's eyes, and he even loosened his grip on the Ghost Messenger Blade.

Zhang Ziliang had actually managed to summon this guy.

In the illusion of the Three Pages, this man's strength had been formidable.

In that case, dealing with one Buddha should not have been a problem.

"Are you taking a shit?"

Suddenly, Wang Ye's gaze fell upon Zhao Hai, who was squatting not far away, and he could not help but laugh.

That guy's posture...

Really was...

Rather suggestive. If he had been clutching a wad of paper, it would have been perfect.

Zhao Hai shot Wang Ye a resentful look.

Didn't Wang Ye know exactly what was going on?

Zhao Hai had finally stolen that rocking chair from Li Xinghe's office so he could show off today, only for this bandit to snatch it away.

"Here, take this."

"Your legs will go numb if you keep squatting."

Thoughtfully, Wang Ye pulled out a small folding stool from his cloth bag and tossed it toward Zhao Hai.

The stool was just a little too short, though. Sitting on it would look awkward, so squatting was actually better.

Zhao Hai grew even more resentful.

Wang Ye clearly no longer felt like joking with Zhao Hai and turned his gaze beyond Shangjing City.

At that moment...

That arm gripped the earth on both sides, as though trying to claw its way completely out of the ground.

Unfortunately...

An invisible seal seemed to be holding its owner beneath the earth.

He let out an enraged roar.

The arm swung again, slamming a pitch-black palm print toward Baoshi Buddha.

Then,