The mist-like night fog slowly outlines the figure.
Sterling Feng could imagine it without even looking.
The slender body has a robe with wide sleeves, rustling in the autumn wind.
Sterling Feng had no doubt that if the wind was stronger, or if there was a continuous frost and snow blowing directly at this time, it would be enough to destroy the sick man's body and make him lie in bed for ten and a half days. It is more likely that he will die just like that, and maybe there will be one less scourge in the world.
The sick man's mouth is very thin, and it must be tightly pursed in the cold wind at this moment. Just like him, he speaks harshly, without mercy, is faster and sharper than a sword, and can choke people to death.
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