"Shouldn't we help Yao Tang?" Song Lang asked anxiously, his eyes darting back and forth between the girl and her assailants.
"It's the others you should be worried about," Meng Yang answered nonchalantly.
As if to confirm his words, a series of screams filled the room as soon as he finished speaking.
It was a horrible, ear-piercing sound that fully conveyed the meaning of pain. Song Lang whirled around to see what had happened and saw Zhang Ting and his friends crumpled on the floor around Yao Tang's desk.
One of them was covering her eyes, the other her nose, and the last one her knees. All of them were howling in agony.
Zhang Ting screamed the loudest of all, one of her hands clamped around her wrist. She was white as a ghost, and beads of sweat were dripping from her forehead.
As for the girl Song Lang had been so concerned about…
