Chương 1787: Night

The cold voice, as cold as the arctic wind, froze Sivalka, even his bones starting to hurt, but he dared not move a muscle at the moment.

He knew who this old man was, Hunting Knife Anderson!

Although he looked a lot older in the pictures, the basic contours of his face were still recognizable and… that dagger that moved like a ghost!

The automatic dagger that required no wielding and was able to hunt down its prey was the signature move of the Hunting Knife!

Factoring in the comments about how ruthless he was towards pagans, Sivalka shook his head repeatedly, despite the fact that he didn't know why a dead person would appear before his eyes.