lt;lt;lt;Red-hearted

A man with bare feet, wearing a mask and carrying a bronze chest on his back, stood on the back of a flying hawk, silent as the wind. Or perhaps, his words were already lost in the flash of steel.,"Here lies a fine skull, who will dare to sever it",Mò Jīngyǔ reached back with his hand, wanting to open the copper chest on his back and use his last resort. But his hands trembled uncontrollably, he didn't have the strength to lift the lid.。