With black short hair and ink-like eyebrows, Huo Sicheng's narrow, phoenix eyes resembled the deep, dark springs in a cave, profound and bottomless.
His handsome features showed no sign of emotional fluctuation, with lips tightly pursed, exuding a cold indifference. His entire presence radiated a noble and abstinent aura, yet mixed with a bone-chilling coldness.
Lu Chi did not look at Huo Sicheng, his eyes seemingly fixed elsewhere, but in reality, the hand holding the book tightened slightly.
Without looking, Lu Chi could still feel the icy chill emanating from Huo Sicheng, like frozen ice edges, cold and sharp, as if silently warning him that if he did not disclose Gu Qingcheng's whereabouts, Huo Sicheng would not hesitate to kill him.
Ye Rong's face had turned pale, not from Lu Chi ignoring her, which would have saddened her, but from the fear Huo Sicheng instilled in her.
