Zhi'er was startled.
"This is Yan He's husband, Yan Song."
Feng Fuce glanced at her: "How do you recognize him?"
"I've seen his portrait, just behind his memorial tablet." Zhi'er pursed her lips.
Ordinary spirit demons, if they want to absorb human essence blood, some will purposely transform into the victim's family or friends.
It's just to deceive people.
But, Zhi'er and the others can tell.
The man still lingering in the midst of war smoke was not a transformation of any spirit demon.
He was indeed Yan He's husband, who had been dead for twenty years.
Feng Fuce stepped forward.
Yan Song obviously felt deeply threatened.
He immediately raised his long sword at Feng Fuce: "Do not step any closer."
Feng Fuce's eyes were cold: "Either you come with us, or you are scattered to the winds, your choice."
But Yan Song tightly gripped the long sword.
He was covered in scars, yet his gaze was quite resolute.
