Not long after, in the City Lord Mansion, a Little Rabbit sat in the City Lord's chair, reclined with crossed legs, munching on a watermelon.
Below, eighty survivors were all tied up in a group, each staring pitifully at the Rabbit in front of them.
At this moment, they finally understood why players from Spirit Mountain kept dying and getting trapped batch after batch.
The Wild Monsters here, even the smallest ones, have the strength to instantly kill eleventh-tier players.
With such terrifying strength, considering the players' current Combat Power, truly as many come, as many die.
"Amitabha, Mister Rabbit, why have you captured us?" An old Monk couldn't hold back anymore and spoke up.
The watermelon-eating Rabbit finally lifted its head: "Just now, it wasn't hard to tell from your shouting that you know a bit about me, right?"
Everyone nodded.
