Zhang Ziwen quickly steadied the corpse, gently laying it on the small pushcart. An Yun had become numb to his murderous methods. Today, she had seen too much repulsion and been through too many ugly events. She possessed an exceptional mental fortitude. She was truly outstanding, not fleeing from the cold-blooded scene before her. She continued her performance, her moans echoing in the narrow corridor. Watching her, Zhang Ziwen truly admired the girl's perfect cooperation. Another person might have been scared into silence by now. Yet, this girl remained irresistibly captivating under such circumstances. He extended his hand in salute, as soldiers do after a successful task, to show his respect.
An Yun gave him an indifferent look, ignoring him. She continued her brilliant performance, disregarding Zhang Ziwen's outstretched handshake.
