"Who goes there? Show yourself!" Guo Conglong warily scanned his surroundings.
He was just on a tense battlefield, but in the blink of an eye, everything around him turned into a foggy expanse. It wasn't nighttime—it was pure white mist, with visibility no more than five paces.
"Lord Guo, don't be nervous, it's me." A figure willingly appeared from the vast white fog.
A square face, a robust physique, clad in a bright and shiny Mingguang Armor, holding a Ma Shao, wearing a waist knife, with a pair of maces strapped, an impeccable Soaring Dragon warrior getup.
The familiar face did not ease the tension in Guo Conglong's heart; instead, he became even more wary, "General Hu? Weren't you killed in action while crossing the lake? Hmm... Could it be that we are no longer among the living? Am I dead, and you've come to take me home? Hmm... No, even if you came to take me, it shouldn't be you—it should be the ghost messenger. Are you the ghost messenger in disguise...?"
