Billionaire God of War

He looked at the blood in his palm with a gloomy look in his eyes.

"What a surprise."

Mr. Lang's face, constantly falling, gradually revealed the true face of the original.

Young, looks like a teenager!

But his age, no one knows, listen to the voice, and vicissitudes like an old man.

"What a terrible punch."

He vomited the blood out of his mouth, took a few deep breaths, and coughed violently. He did not expect that he would be injured one day.

Moreover, it was young people like Jiangning who hurt them.

In his mind, still playing back, just Jiangning that a few moves extremely Road boxing, every move every type, let his eyes tremble.

"I didn't expect that we all underestimated it."

Mr. Lang's eyes are deep, like the Milky way, which makes people unable to see what he is thinking in his heart.

He adjusted for a while before he could stand firm.

If you let those old friends see it, I'm afraid they will laugh!

It took a while for him to recover and walk away.

Within the whole mountain gate, there are many zongmen, but they are widely distributed and far apart.

From east to west, there is a continuous mountain range. From south to north, there is a river. The intersection of the mountain range and the river is the lowest place in the whole terrain. From the whole point of view, it is like a bowl.

On both sides of the mountain, the religious gates are scattered everywhere.

Nowadays, the closer to the northern border, the rarer the people are. Several zongmen that once stood in the northern border have long disappeared, and no one is left.

To the north, the misty gray fog exudes a kind of killing atmosphere.

It seems to come from hell, cold and lifeless, where you go, there is no grass!

It's a desolate place. It's frightening. No one dares to get close to it.

Dada dada!

A slight sound of footsteps sounded. Mr. Lang went to the boundary of the gray matter and squinted around. He was dead and could not see a figure.

He had no expression on his face. He didn't pay any attention to the gray fog that other people talked about. He walked straight in.

The fog was heavy and gloomy, as if it covered the whole world.

Mr. Lang didn't pay attention to the fog. It didn't melt people directly and disappear from the world as they said. It was just that Mr. Lang's shoulders were stained with some dew.

He walked, and the fog couldn't block his sight.

In the misty fog, I can't see Mr. Lang's figure. I can only hear the slight but rhythmic step by step.

Soon.

The fog in front of Mr. Lang became thinner and thinner, and his vision gradually widened.

What appears in front of us is a lake, surrounded by three mountains, and the opening is a plain. It is from this lake that the fog is continuously evaporating and spreading to all directions.

By the lake, there is a small house built of wood. Just look at the moss marks on it, you can see that this wooden house has been for a long time.

Mr. Lang, still expressionless, walked to the room and pushed the door in.

The furnishings in the room are simple. Apart from a bed, a table and a mirror, there is nothing else.

He went to the mirror, looking at his face, looking at the mirror, his muddy eyes!

"I'm forgetting what I look like."

His voice was hoarse and deep, as thick as a clock.

The hands, gently brushing on the face, seem to feel the texture of every skin, is not the same as the impression.

For a long time, Mr. Lang put down his hand, sat in front of the mirror and looked at himself quietly.

He opened the drawer, took out a human skin mask, carefully put it on again, and became another stranger.