Wang Biao felt he was really cursed with bad luck.
No sooner had he entered than he was spotted, not to mention he had twisted his ankle while running just now.
His ankle throbbed painfully.
Barely making it to the village, they looked back and saw no one was following; only then did the group feel relieved.
The short one hugged his arms and shivered nonstop, "Bro Biao, what do we do now?"
After speaking, he sneezed fiercely—it was indeed a chilly night wind.
Wang Biao was already full of rage and spat fiercely on the short one's face.
"You're asking me? How would I know?"
The short one wiped his face and didn't dare to ask further.
Wang Biao's gaze swept across the faces of the group, threatening, "Keep today's matter to yourselves. If anyone dares to spill it..."
Everyone was already scared to death and wouldn't dare to speak.
"But they're not fools on the other side, they will surely try to investigate."