Churong's voice was neither fast nor slow. As she spoke, her upper body leaned forward slightly. The warm air from her mouth was frozen by the morning chill and turned into a cool breeze that blew on pinluo's face. It made him feel the hair on his face standing up rapidly. It pulled on his skin and caused a faint stinging pain.
The young man instinctively wiped his face, as if he wanted to smooth out the hair that had stood up. After carefully thinking about his first appearance and thinking of his strange attitude, he could not help but feel even more frightened. He subconsciously took two steps back, increasing the distance between them.
"Someone died?"
Song qingxiao asked despite knowing the answer. The others 'eyes were red, and their faces were filled with grief and anger as they stared at her coldly.
However, churong's expression remained the same as she nodded.
"Yup,"
