The light in Ye Qing Luo's eyes submerged. Her pupils became red in a split second, brimming with a murderous aura.
The toes of her foot lightly tapped, turned instantly, and her body already moved rapidly to tangle within the battling crowd of people.
Yuchi Ya had been fiercely glaring at Ye Qing Luo with hostility. Seeing her make a move, he immediately closely followed and move forward.
Ye Qing Luo's figure was crafty. Very quickly, she moved behind that lackey.
In the instant just as that lackey's palm was going to strike at the back of Ye Feng Yu's head, his wrist suddenly burst in a sharp pain.
He only saw a slim lily-white hand firmly strike his wrist.
The skin of that fair, lily-white hand was porcelain like.
Each finger looked like scallion, so slender they seemed to have no strength at all.
But it's precisely this pair of hands which pinched at the artery and tendon at his wrist.
