Si Yiyan stood quietly in the chill of the night, radiating terrifying coldness all over. He toyed lightly with his slender, beautiful fingers, looking at ease, but the aura surrounding his body, one of ready aggression, was impossible to miss.
"Hey, where are you from, report your name—how dare you to provoke someone from the Green Dragon Sect, are you tired of living?" One of the men kept roaring towards Si Yiyan.
A few seconds of silence later, heavy footsteps could be heard—the rhythmic footsteps resonated in the dead, lonely atmosphere, one after another, in repetition and interaction, so heavy that they almost stepped into one's heart.
The dead silence was so eerie that it gave the man goosebumps. He suddenly got up, wanting to look up at the situation, but his head was then clamped in place by something cold and hard.
