Two strands of hair fell from Ye Siming's forehead and rested in front of his eyebrows.
This made the youth's handsome facial features look even more cold and hard.
His eyes were dark and cold, suffused with a wolf-like scrutiny. He held the flag tightly in his hand.
His thin clothes were already drenched and stuck tightly to his body.
Ye Siming's legs were long and apart. He was tall and his height did not lose to Qin Song, who was ten years older than him.
Qin Song was also very cautious.
He knew that Ye Siming was very skilled in martial arts and there was no chance he'd be able to succeed through a forceful head-on attack.
Therefore, he kept walking slowly around Ye Siming.
It was as if he was waiting for an opportunity to attack.
Ye Siming didn't take the initiative to attack. He just quietly waited for the other party to make the first move.
