Several burly men sat around the fire, keeping their eyes fixed on Xiao Mo and the others.
But Xiao Mo still sat with his eyes closed, resting. The Spirit Gathering Blade lay across his legs, and he looked as if he were asleep, completely ignoring their stares.
Wang Xin kept hold of the hem of Xiao Mo's clothes. She didn't look afraid of these burly men who seemed like bandits; rather, she seemed worried that Xiao Mo might get in a bad mood and slice them all to pieces.
Scarred man glanced at the Han family's wife and daughter, then couldn't help licking his lips. His eyes burned with desire.
But every so often, he also looked toward Xiao Mo, a trace of wariness flashing in his eyes.
After all, a blade rested across Xiao Mo's thighs. Scarred man had no idea how strong he was. What if he came from some martial arts sect and liked to play the chivalrous hero? That would be trouble.
But if he gave up on this mother and daughter, Scarred man couldn't bear the thought.
The two of them were truly something. The older one still had her charms, ripe as a peach, while the younger one was fresh and lovely, like a lotus yet to bloom.
On this boring night, if he could—
"Heh heh heh." Just thinking about it filled Scarred Man with a strange excitement.
As for the nun—
Though she was so beautiful she seemed beyond anything in this world, Scarred man had never seen a woman so lovely before.
But monks were the sort he couldn't afford to offend and didn't want to provoke.
And to make matters worse, she was a woman who'd become a monk. That was downright bizarre.
Years of wandering the martial world had