Listening to the discussions of the crowd, a hint of ruthlessness appeared in the scar-faced man's eyes. He knew that he had encountered an expert. He ignored everything and picked up the sieve cup again to shake it. Feng Qing followed suit.
Bang! The two of them stopped at the same time. The scar-faced man lifted the sieve cup and it was eight again.
"I'm done, it's your turn. I hope you can roll out nine this time," the scar-faced man said in a deep voice.
Feng Qing's lips curled up, and she reached out to lift the sieve cup. Suddenly, her ears twitched, and an extremely small sound rang out from the sieve cup. Feng Qing's movements paused, and her expression was a little ugly. She knew that the dice must have been tampered with.
"Five points? You've used up all your good luck. Haha!" The scar-faced man laughed.
Feng Qing sneered. "You know better than anyone whether my luck is finished, right?"
