Chaotic Sword God
Apocalypse Gacha
Necromancer: I Am A Disaster
Martial Cultivator
Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God - Side Stories
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Nightmare Assault
I, The Dragon Overlord
Loser System and Berserker Me
Horror Game Designer
There's Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made!
Swear Fealty To Me, My Subjects!
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 244: Fear
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 322: Five Seconds
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1169- See you downstairs
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 942: The Fate-Burning Candle
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 943: Resisting the Mandate of Heaven (1)
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1168- Level exceeding activation
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 15
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 618: Vajra's Angry Gaze
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3826: The Illusionary Ancestor’s Gift
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 243: Found!
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 321: Gaze
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1167- Kill the kill-stealer
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 941: Fortune
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1166- Terrifying Sprites
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 14
The Demon King is Too Unfathomable!
Chapter 31: Weaving Shadow Nest! Crypt Lord!
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 617: Bodhisattva Lowers Its Gaze
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 320: Fate is a Cycle
Commotion immediately erupted at the sight of the stranger. At once the militia members present trained their sights on him, unwilling to let him take another step forward.
Sister Mirda, with her charismatic personality and strong faith, created a firm temple in the hearts of this group of people who were born and lived in oppression. At expense of even their lives, they would do their utmost to preserve the sanctity of their saint.
This movement also drew other people’s attention. Many nuns, villagers, and foreigners were videoing the last journey of Sister Mirda’s life.
The man who appeared at the entrance of the village looked about thirty years old. He was wearing a tunic without any other accessories on his body. He walked barefoot yet the soles of his feet weren’t stained by the earth. He had curly, flaxen long hair and a face with a thick beard.
The man looked quite ordinary. He was neither handsome nor ugly, and indeed his attractiveness seemed to be the mean of the entire human race. His long hair cascaded and danced with the wind, but not in a messy manner. Rather it gave off a feeling of freedom and refreshment.
He smiled. His smile wasn’t full of compassion and kindness like Sister Mirda’s but it bore its own kind of warmth. It was like the light, and he was the sun, bringing light to the world.
However, the man’s appearance surprised everyone. The villagers had long known that this place was surrounded by government forces. The reason why no attack had occurred was because of the world-renowned nun as well as the foreign workers. The Kenyan government did not want to become internationally targeted by Christians and the countries that the foreigners came from. As a result, they decided to perform a battle of attrition instead of a direct one.
In any case, there were no supplies left in the village. As time went on, the people in the village would surely starve to death.
“Are you from the government army?”
A black boy of slightly more than ten years old asked. His body was so thin and frail that anyone could see
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