In less than ten breaths, all the bandits were down.
There wasn't a drop of blood on them, but they were all lifeless.
The scruffy old man led the horse towards the city outskirts while the handsome young master on the horse murmured, "Old He, you've regressed."
Upon hearing this, the scruffy old man sheepishly scratched his head, "Haven't been in action for many years, feeling a bit rusty, miss, please forgive me."
The handsome young master didn't intend to blame him and put on the conical hat again, "I've heard Chen Mo is also a First Grade Martial Artist, Old He, can you beat him?"
The scruffy old man squinted his eyes, looking harmless, "I'm old, can't fight anymore."
"Old He, do you believe there's a nineteen-year-old First Grade Martial Artist?"
"Isn't that my young master?" The scruffy old man chuckled.
The handsome young master was stunned, a blush emerging on his face, "Oh, you sly Old He. I've decided, when we meet Chen Mo, I must let you have a good spar with him."
