“Brother Long, let me smash him.”

Yan Mochen had continuously provoked them, making even the well-behaved Wilde irritated.

“Don’t be so violent. Fighting and killing all day isn’t good. I’ve promised Meng Qi to restrain my temper and be a good disciple.” Long Chen shook his head.

“Brother Long?” Wilde scratched his head, not understanding.

“Sometimes, you don’t need to kill people to vent your anger. In the future, my motto in the Xuantian Dao Sect will be: if I can play you to death, I definitely won’t beat you to death. Fighting is so barbaric. It has no technique, nor is it fun to watch. It’s boring. Now that we’re in the Central Plains, we’re people with status. We can’t be like villagers fighting all day. We should play more high-class games,” laughed Long Chen.

Tang Wan-er noticed Long Chen’s wicked smile and that familiar naughty light in his eyes. He looked just like his previous self from when he had just joined the 108th monastery.

“Boss, how should we play?” asked Guo Ran.

“There’s no set routine to this game. Just act according to the situation....