The clown also smiled, courteously bowed and turned to board the bus.
Gem Atkinson's eyes nearly contracted as he looked at the wet spot behind the clown's clothes.
If it were anyone else, even if they saw the wet patch, they would only consider it rainwater, snow, or a little sprinkle from a nearby fountain.
However, the person before his eyes was not just anyone, it was Gem Atkinson, someone who survived several near-death experiences on the Asura Battlefield.
It was blood, a scent his sharp nose could not miss.
A wounded clown could still move so freely and laugh so gleefully?
"Stop." Gem Atkinson spoke up.
The clown paused at his footsteps to board the bus turned around and looked at Gem Atkinson. Then he bowed in a gentlemanly manner, still looking at Gem.
Gem's gaze, cold and intimidating, appeared to be encased in ice.
Under such stern admiration, the clown could not help but tremble a little.
