Mo Wu's voice had improved somewhat, no longer as hoarse as before, even carrying a light and gentle warmth. But the man was already terrified, tears and snot streaming down his face, and at the same time, a foul smell wafted up from below.,To live, to survive, endless killing and slaughter day and night have left his hands riddled with wounds, ugly and scarred.,The Continent of Shengyuan, the country of Daliang, the Mohist school, Mu Baichuan... And also, myself who was betrayed by my family and ended up being killed, Mo Wu!。