"No matter how solidly a rat's nest is built, it can never change its fate as a rat's den," Zhang Xiaohao mocked.
"Just be careful not to get swallowed by this 'rat's den' of mine!" the robed figure sneered.
"By these thirty-six little mice? Are they worthy?" Zhang Xiaohao scorned.
Yet his gaze fell upon the thirty-six samurai from R country standing before him.
Their expressions were mechanical, utterly devoid of life, faces as stiff as zombies, each with a black katana hanging at their waist.
From start to finish.
Ever since Zhang Xiaohao and the White-clothed Young Master had entered, there hadn't been the slightest change in their expressions.