"Want to die?" Mo Jiao's purple eyes flashed with a chilling light, as he revealed a black mist from his palm and strode towards Xuan Jiu.
Facing Mo Jiao, who was brimming with murderous intent, Xuan Jiu was even more arrogant: "A dead snake, come on! Let's see if I can't beat you to death."
Seeing Xuan Jiu provoking Mo Jiao as if he had a death wish, Su Ye's hand, which was holding a long knife, trembled.
Suddenly, Xuan Jiu shuddered in fright and looked at Su Ye: "Can you handle a knife?"
"If you can't handle it, put it away."
"You want to kill me by holding it sideways, don't you?"
"You're sick." Su Ye thought Xuan Jiu was very strange.
Although Xuan Jiu was a madman saint.
But no matter how crazy Xuan Jiu was, he wouldn't seek death voluntarily.
Yet now, Xuan Jiu was both arrogant and reckless.
Even Li Du, sitting behind, couldn't help but load a bullet into the gun.
