The voice was soft, yet it held a strength that pierced right to the heart.
Upon hearing the familiar voice, Yang Xiaoqiao's emotions, teetering on the edge of collapse, were soothed, like a small boat adrift at sea suddenly spotting a lighthouse.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw a familiar face.
The face of the man who had caused her immense sadness was before her, wearing an expression of distress and sorrow.
Suddenly, she screamed.
For she saw behind Ye Xiong, a flash of knife light.
Taking advantage of Ye Xiong's distraction, a thug scrambled up, raised his knife, and viciously stabbed toward Ye Xiong's back.
Yang Xiaoqiao's heart leapt into her throat, almost choking her.
Just as the sharp knife was about to plunge into Ye Xiong's back, he reacted with the speed of someone with eyes in the back of his head and swiftly reached out, grabbed the thug's wrist, and twisted it with force.
