Clip-clop, clip-clop—
Mud splattered everywhere as the silhouette of Jiang Dali, donning a conical hat and mounted on a tall horse, gradually approached the teahouse, his gaze settling on several groups of people clashing just outside.
"Indeed, there are members of the Sun and Moon Divine Sect here."
Noticing a few oddly dressed individuals among the groups, Jiang Dali's eyes brightened.
He then looked towards a dozen or so players nicknamed above their heads.
These players, running like wolves and pouncing like tigers, possessed an impressive momentum, their movements agile with a military-like bearing.
"Players, too? And...they seem to be quite renowned from my previous life, something like the Yanbei Thirteen Riders? Interesting."
Jiang Dali scrutinized the dozen players for a moment.
Just then, several players perished on the spot, turning into white light and vanishing.