C51 Yu Guanyin

Speaking of sickles, Wang Xiaojian sighed helplessly, while his eyes were full of yearning.

"The sickle is gone. If you have time, help me find it."

Although Wang Xiaojian tried to comfort himself that he didn't have a sickle, he was still the god of death.

However, that black and red sickle had been like his for more than ten years. It had gone from an ordinary weapon to a brother