Maybe in the next second, the youthful girl was going to wither.
Bang—
A figure went flying and slid a few meters across the ground. A hand dropped weakly to the ground, obviously broken.
The girl's jet-black eyelashes were thick and teardrops hung to them. The wind swept up her high ponytail. Her hair was messy, and under her feet, the ground was covered in black-suited men. She was like a murderer stepping away from a massacre.
She slowly looked at Yan Zezheng and curved her eyes, still looking pure and harmless.
Yan Zezheng stopped wiping his glasses calmly. His contemptuous smile froze on the corners of his lips, looking weird and ugly.
Everything happened too quickly. Before he even noticed her movement, the girl was in front of him.
Her empty and misty eyes had a sense of bloodlust as though something had awoken inside of her.
"Now, it's your turn..."
