Under the bright moonlight, on the desolate path, there was a gray-clothed man pushing a wooden cart running rapidly, and the rapid sound of the wheels rolling was as fierce as the sound of drums.

"I'm about to be killed by you, let me go." Wu Yang leaned against the baffle of the wooden car, pale and clutched his bleeding chest and said with a chuckle.

The man in gray was still pushing the wooden cart by himself, as if he hadn't heard anything.

Wu Yang coughed lightly a few times, and looked down at himself coughing

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