A few hundred miles away, the skinny old man appeared with He Yanglei in tow. The young man of outstanding talent stumbled slightly. His hands were still trembling and a saber howl echoed in his mind. With a vicious expression, he aggressively questioned: "Why didn't you kill him?!"
The skinny old man gave He Yanglei a sidelong glance. There was a flicker of annoyance in his gaze, and it exerted a pressure that stifled the next upcoming words within He Yanglei's throat. Still, he was unable to accept this.
"Haha, we're not your thugs, little one—just your protectors." A sonorous laugh echoed as the old man that often accompanied the young woman arrived. He had a bright smile with lively eyes, snacking on something in his brown bag.
