"Ta Fang, you have nowhere to run. Why don't you just surrender!"
The pursuers numbered twenty-five in total, with three in the lead—all late-stage Gold Warriors.
These pursuers were tall and powerfully built, with tiger-like frames and bear-like waists, their skin a greenish hue. They wore leather armor but kept their chests and stomachs bared, as if showing off their developed muscles.
Their mouths were wide, with sharp fangs and beastly ears.
But it was impossible to tell what kind of beast they were.
The one speaking was a peak late-stage Gold green-skinned man, wielding a two-meter-long Wolf Fang Club in his hand. The combo of that and his strong muscles radiated an explosive power.
"A Ta Fang may die in battle, but will never be captured alive! Come on then! My Longlong Tribe will avenge me sooner or later!" Ta Fang stood holding his blade, fearless and resolute.
"Capture him alive!"
The green-skinned leader waved his hand, and his subordinates surged forth.
