West word camp.

Back mountain, a lake.

There was a gray-haired, energetic old man who was fishing with a fishing rod.

His legs were resting on a small stool, shaking leisurely, and his mouth was humming an unknown opera.

There was a black-clothed bodyguard standing tall next to him, guarding him solemnly.

I didn't see the fishing rod for a long time......

"My Warlock" Chapter 161 The Eve of the Four Battalions Trial (Part II) is hitting the hand, please wait a while,

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