A foul stench wafted through the air, the scent of the marshland, but to Old Qin, it had a flavor all its own.
That was the wind of war...
"Ah, the glory days of yore, with golden spear and iron steed, we vanquished the barbarian foe."
This old fella even hummed a few strange tunes, truly getting into the feel of things.
But in the next second, a Flame Strike Skill whooshed down from the sky.
That vast and sudden inferno almost engulfed half of the high ground, swallowing up seven or eight of the joyful student faction and other newbies, completely enveloping both man and cannon in a burst of flame.
They disappeared to the west without even a chance to scream.
The dormitory of Deep-fried Sweet Potato instantly erupted with curses, as three guys sprang from their beds, tossing aside their helmets and cursing at the heavens.
