After a moment, three old men appeared in Ye Fan's sight.

He has a childish face with crane hair, a clear face, wearing a uniform Taoist robe, a Taoist crown on his head, and an immortal Taoist bone. He obviously comes from the same sect.

And on their waists, there were three long swords hanging, even though they had not been unsheathed, they looked very impressive.

The three old men stood there quietly, giving people an indescribable sense of oppression, as if three mountains of ten thousand feet were standing in front of them, making it difficult to cross.

For a moment, Ye Fan's whole body tensed up, as if he were facing a formidable enemy, and his expression was extremely serious.

He could feel that the strength of these three people was more than twice as strong as the ancestors of the Wang family. They were most likely strong men from the hidden sect, or even powerful men in heaven!

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

The next moment, the eyes of the three old men all fell on the mountain and river pen in Ye Fan's hand, shining brightly and full of unabashed covetousness.

The leader of the old man suddenly said: "Young man, can you lend us the pen in your hand for a look?"

When Ye Fan heard this, he took a step back, held the Zhongshan River pen tightly, and asked vigilantly:

"Who are you?"

"Hahaha……"

The old man at the head laughed, held his head high, and said proudly:
Chapter completed!