“Elder Brother Meng, I, Qian, very much admire your performance on the treasure mountain. But let’s not beat around the bush. Whether or not you want to sell the spear, you will!” His eyes were grim, and his words cold.
Meng Hao’s heart groaned. If these people wanted to bring trouble upon themselves, he wouldn’t stop them. A variety of expressions crossed his face, and he retreated a few more steps back, muttering to himself. Then, gritting his teeth, he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Esteemed Violet Fate Sect disciples. If you truly wish to purchase my spear, please, name your price.” Meng Hao flicked his sleeve, stabbing the spear into the ground. His face seemed to be grim and filled with pain.