When the Paradise Bird was stopped, the Hairdresser had already flown close behind her.
At this moment, the Hairdresser interestingly discovered... the one checking the identities of the visitors at the door was his "Lover" whose arm he had burned off.
Her left arm had been replaced with an advanced metal prosthetic body.
It was even the model Russell was familiar with: the Three-fist Iron Claw.
"You can't go in."
The Lover stopped the Paradise Bird without hesitation.
"Why can't I go in?"
The Paradise Bird furrowed her brows, whispering in defense, "You know I am indeed a formal member of the White Lion Group, not some high-ranking official, completely meeting the invitation criteria. So why can't I enter?"
She seemed to lack energy at this moment, as if she had not had enough sleep. She didn't even have the energy to argue.
The Lover coldly chuckled, arms crossed, "Didn't your boss instruct us the day before yesterday to protect you?
