The saintess did not care about her bleeding nose. She looked at the tub greedily. She looked to the east, then to the west. Why did she feel that this thing was so familiar? Why did she not have it?
The saintess stood in front of the bathtub with a bloody nose, and inexplicably straightened her butt, as if she wanted to compare the size with Zhao Ruifeng.
Zhao Ruifeng's face turned cold, and his body was filled with a chill. With a flick of his finger, the calm water shot toward the saintess' eyes like a knife. The saintess took a step forward, and as if something was blocking her way, the water fell to the ground.
Zhao Ruifeng's movements were very fast, and he took advantage of this gap to put on his pants. However, his movements were too big, and the wounds on his body opened again.
"You're so petty, it's not like others don't have it." The saintess snorted.
Zhao Ruifeng glanced at her. 'Hehe, you really don't have one.'
