Mystic Clan of the P

A melodious yet icy female voice echoed in his ear. Lu Jiangxian faintly saw a blurred face, but couldn't make out anything clearly.,In the violently rolling viewpoint, he flew over the small, yellowish village and smoke like a light swallow, passing above the clear river.,Remembering the past silently, Lu Jiangxian had a splitting headache. All he could recall was himself collapsing on his bed, weak and drained. The smoke from his rental room and the neon lights flickered around him.。