Guided by Xiao Qian's bewitching innate ability, the carriage soon stopped within an alley.
The scribe driving the carriage climbed down in a daze, and before he could react, a thick, strong hand clamped onto his neck.
"Urgh!?"
He sobered up instantly, eyes widening as his blood and qi rapidly surged.
Wearing his Ranger Mask, Chu Go wore a blank expression as he casually pinched, the muscles in his palm bulging.
"Crack—"
This scribe, who had been trailing him for several days, had his neck snapped and was crushed to death on the spot, ensuring he would never follow him again.
Inside the carriage, two Hidden Water Sect disciples suddenly sensed something was wrong, a prickling of intuition making them feel a faint threat.
"Not good!"
The two of them moved to leap out of the carriage.
Suddenly, with a boom, the carriage door was struck by a fierce and terrifying colossal force that blasted it to pieces, countless wood splinters flying in all directions.
"Who is it!?"
Ming Yuan shouted aloud, moving to draw the long sword at his waist.
Yet the sword had barely cleared its scabbard by half when an iron fist struck, landing precisely on the hilt and hitting him with such immense force that it sent him staggering backward.
Before he could even react.
A figure flashed before his eyes, moving faster than a gale and uttering a sharp cry.
"Robbing the rich to help the poor! The Yellow Turban must rise! Hand over your wealth!"
A palm with all five fingers splayed struck Ming Yuan right in the chest with ferocious momentum.
"Thud!"
Internal energy burst outward, forming a vortex that rippled and churned in all directions.
Ming Yuan's eyes bulged, and with a blech he vomited a wave of blood, his body slamming