This crude and arrogant roar.
Like a stone thrown into the Dead Water Pond, it stirred ripples in Fang Qingyu's ears.
His footsteps paused, his hand gripping the charred wooden stick tightened slightly, and his brows unconsciously furrowed on a face covered in gray-white dust.
Gray-white gravel slipped off the stick.
A face weathered and deliberately disguised with fatigue and confusion, the brows instantly knitted together.
Brothers?
There are not many people in this world he can call brothers, especially since all of them are back in Qingjian City, impossible to enter the Abyss.
The only one capable, with the slightest possibility of entering, is Lin Kang?
But given Lin Kang's nature, even if he entered, he would never act under the banner of being "Fang Qingyu's brother".
As for Wei Banmeng, Chu Kuanglan, Lu Jiuyuan... even less likely.
Who would be bored enough to mess with the disciples of the Pocket World Blessed Land?
That would be pure suicide.
