Dusk, drizzle.
Liu Hanyan was riding on his horse, looking coldly at the shadows in the jungle next to him.
"Come out."
He never had much patience.
The shadow remained motionless, as if it were nothing more than the chaotic shadow of a jungle bush.
However, how can the real tree shadow be as quiet as a sculpture, not to mention it is raining at the moment, with wind in the rain.
Liu Hanyan sneered, these assassins are getting worse and worse. He began to feel that it was an insult to the sword to draw it against these men.
---------------This is my first time writing an article, so give it a try.