Han Yan's heart also tightened slightly. These bandits had come on fiercely, yet not a single one was yelling or hollering. Now they sat straight in their saddles, faces steady, their backs as straight as spears. Clearly, this gang of bandits was much stronger than Chen Xuefeng's lot.
"So this is the Huayu Temple, rumored to be one of the oldest temples on the Continent. Turns out it's nothing much after all." The leader, a burly man in a black cloak, glanced around, sizing up the Huayu Temple and speaking as if no one else were present.
The man was tall and gaunt, looking like a walking skeleton frame. A scar ran from his left forehead down to the right corner of his mouth, lending his face an extra touch of ferocious savagery.
After speaking, his gaze finally turned toward Han Yan and the others.
