Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God - Side Stories
Chaotic Sword God
Apocalypse Gacha
Necromancer: I Am A Disaster
Martial Cultivator
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Nightmare Assault
Loser System and Berserker Me
I, The Dragon Overlord
There's Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made!
Horror Game Designer
The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 598: Since You Have to Choose Someone, Choosing Me Works Fine Too
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3818: Mystifying Kindness
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 302: Gaze
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 224: Arrogance
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1133- Job Clash
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 927: Instant Kill
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1132- Slave race
The Demon King is Too Unfathomable!
Chapter 25: The Demonoids Living in the Human World
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 597: Your Majesty, Please Abdicate
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3817: The Illusionary Ancestor
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 301: What is in His Body
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 223: Lose to Me
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1131- Changing order
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 926: Jadefication
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 925: Pill Master
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1130.5- Cloud Peak delicacies (2)
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 596: Uncle and Nephew (8)
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3816: The Master of Profound Secrets
At the far end of 23rd Avenue, where countless drifters were, an extremely lanky man, much like a bamboo pole, wandered about in a small alley like a ghost.
This street used by drifters and homeless now only had old folks and children. Those young and fitter adults had already been rallied by the Sun's Faith to fight in the Central District.
The motto of Pope Vincent of the Sun's Faith was 'Fight the nobles, Divine the land, and equalize wealth and poverty.' They would have food to eat if they win.
The tall skinny man stopped at the alley of drifters on 23rd Avenue, and he openly scrutinized these wanderers while at the same time attracting the attention of many of them.
Even at the poor and remote 23rd Avenue, the thin man's wide-brimmed hat seemed outdated, but the man wore it really well, making it difficult to gauge its price.
It was obvious he was rich, yet he gave off a fiercely wicked vibe, so no one went up to him to ask for money.
Only when the lanky man turned into an empty alley did he suddenly feel his clothes being grabbed by someone.
He was slightly surprised at first, then turned his head to see a small girl no older than ten, with a face full of dirt and cracked lips—as a whole, utterly shabby. However, one could still see the child's innocent cuteness.
"Uncle, my mother is sick, my father went to the Central District, and me and my mom haven't had any food for days. Could you give me some money, please?" The little girl choked up as tears ran down her face.
The tall and thin man turned around, squatting down to meet the little girl's eye level.
The man was over two meters tall, but he easily bent down and contorted his body to make eye contact with the little girl up to his thigh, a movement that seemed effortless and beyond the ability of an ordinary person.
"I can give you money to cure your mother," the man's voice was unusually hoarse and full of force, his wide-brimmed hat covering the upper part of his nose.
The little girl immediately broke into tears of joy. "Thank you, thank yo
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