In desperation, Qian Cangyi raised his right fist and swung, but it passed straight through, hitting nothing.
"I'm right here!" A pale face revealed a smile of successful conspiracy.
The rustling of leaves could be heard, and not far from the mountain forest, a tall Shi Yiling emerged from the shadows.
Qian Cangyi quickly ran in the opposite direction.
However, faces extending from his memory continually updated their real-time positions.
The hurried sound of footsteps grew nearer and nearer; Qian Cangyi tried several methods to get rid of the faces to no avail and could only pick up speed while carrying the "horn."
Soon, a villager appeared ahead, and the villagers behind had already surrounded him.
"Liang Ping, why are you running? Don't you care about your mother anymore?" Fan Yuantang's voice came from behind.
