As they spoke, another palm strike came. Mo Wu struggled to dodge. But the man grabbed her hair and pulled her up, slamming her head against a nearby rock.,Mo Wu's voice had improved somewhat, no longer as hoarse as before, even carrying a light and gentle warmth. But the man was already terrified, tears and snot streaming down his face, and at the same time, a foul smell wafted up from below.,To live, to survive, endless killing and slaughter day and night have left his hands riddled with wounds, ugly and scarred.。