Ao Zihua nodded. "The Northern Desert is at least a million kilometers away from Bieyang City. It's impossible to get there by plane, only by rocket. But there are no rockets in the Northern Desert."
Ming Zhitian was stunned. "One million... kilometers? My God, we can't go back!"
After walking for a hundred li, the three of them vaguely saw a roadside inn ahead. The waiter, a grey towel draped over his shoulder, was pouring tea and water for several tables of guests.
They were all powerful figures from various factions, and there were also travelers. Ming Zhitian felt as if he had returned to ancient times. Everything here was vastly different from Bieyang City—one was ancient, the other modern.
The mad old man pulled Ming Zhitian and Ao Zihua to a table in the center and shouted, "Scram!"
Although the people around were not cowards, they didn't want trouble and immediately fled as if their lives depended on it.
The waiter, seeing this, didn't know what to do. A malevolent god had appeared: "This, this, this..."
The mad old man looked at two young men in white clothes over there, who still hadn't left. He kicked over a stool, sending it flying!
The stool smashed onto a wooden table with a "bang" and split in two! The two young men in white quickly jumped out, narrowly avoiding disaster.
It was a pity for the steamed buns on the table. One of the young men in white angrily pointed at the mad old man, "Old man! You've gone too far!"
Although the mad old man had silver hair, he was at most an uncle, and he hated being called "old man" the most!
Seeing the young man in white draw his sword, the mad old man calmly picked up an empty plate from the table. A gust of wind swept by.
"Puchi!" The young man in white stopped his movement. He saw that the empty plate was firmly embedded in a wooden beam. The wood didn't break, and the plate didn't shatter.
Instead, the young man in white, with a "plop," fell to the ground, a stream of blood gushing from his neck...
"Hiss!..."
Everyone present, except for the mad old man himself, couldn't help but gasp, their hearts suddenly turning cold.
Ming Zhitian looked at the mad old man's back, feeling a hint of dread. He thought to himself, "I can't even discern this person's level. Even if I recover my strength, would I still be no match for him?"
Seeing his companion dead, the other young man in white froze for a moment: "Hai Qian..."
As soon as he reacted, he turned and ran: "Not good, it's Pang Jin, run!"
(Pang Jin refers to someone who is not to be trifled with.)
"Go? Did I agree to that?"
As the mad old man spoke, he slapped the table and picked up five wooden chopsticks, flinging them with a casual wave!
The five wooden chopsticks shot out like bullets, hitting the fleeing young man in white!
At the critical moment, the young man in white drew his emerald green sword—the Biling Sword—to block the attack!
This young man in white was very smart. Knowing he was no match, he turned and fled.
The mad old man merely sneered, not intending to pursue. Instead, he slowly sat down. "Waiter, bring a basket of steamed buns and a pot of tea."
The stunned waiter bypassed the blood-splattered floor, nodded respectfully, and then tremblingly fetched two baskets of steamed buns and a pot of tea.
The waiter was sweating profusely, his hands shaking as he poured the tea, treading on thin ice. "Are... are two baskets of steamed buns enough?"
The mad old man flicked his sleeve, and the waiter, greatly relieved, quickly hid in a corner of the stove cabinet, not daring to come out.
Fearing the buns were poisoned, the mad old man looked at Ming Zhitian and Ao Zihua. "You two, try them to see if they're poisoned."
Stunned! ~~~...
Why was it so natural to ask them to test for poison? Ming Zhitian was dumbfounded, while Ao Zihua was used to it. The two picked up the buns and were about to eat.
The mad old man said, "Wait, you try. He doesn't need to."
Ming Zhitian looked into the mad old man's eyes. The meaning was that Ming Zhitian didn't need to. Clearly, he valued Ming Zhitian's body for its greater use to him.
Ao Zihua obediently ate one... two steamed buns.
Seeing that he showed no ill effects, the mad old man immediately picked up a bun and began to eat. "Eat."
Ming Zhitian was already starving and ate ravenously without hesitation.
But sensing the mad old man's strange gaze, Ming Zhitian didn't dare to eat more. Just as he was about to signal the waiter to come out and make more buns, the mad old man stood up.
"It's time to go."
"But... I haven't eaten enough yet?" Ming Zhitian showed no intention of leaving.
The mad old man unceremoniously tugged at the chain. Ming Zhitian was dragged away mercilessly before he could even have a drink of water.