Under the black night, on the vast and desolate Mountain Ridge, black human figures sprinted rapidly, like hungry wolves searching for food, advancing towards the brightly lit camp. At the back of the group, a person worriedly looking in the direction of the enemy, with cold eyes flashing intensely, full of concern, was Luo Zheng. The enemy still had more than four hundred people, and the crazed extent of their pursuit in anger was imaginable; this small number of people here couldn't possibly hold them off.
"After a full day's forced march, Bar's men are both tired and sleepy, definitely unable to escape. The enemy has suffered many casualties and must be extremely furious. If they launch a crazy pursuit, I'm afraid everyone won't be able to escape. What should we do?" Ghost Hand also looked heavily towards the direction of the enemy, deep in thought.
