The seventeen-year-old girl was quite unfamiliar with this feeling. She looked down at her hand in slight bewilderment, somewhat annoyed that the boy had not been completely forthcoming with her about this sword stroke.
Zhang Junxue also propped herself up. Though technically, the girl could have done it herself, Shen Yao still held her up from behind.
The girl's gaze was so stern it seemed rigid.
When she saw the boy's foot pressing against Shang Huaitong's throat, the girl's body subconsciously shuddered, as if someone chilled to the bone by winter had stepped into a warm hearth. As the man in the black cloak collapsed onto the ground, clutching his arm and moaning in pain, the girl clenched her teeth tightly. Even though she made no move, everyone could sense her turbulent emotions.
Tears truly rolled silently from her eyes.
Even though she had long understood the boy's intentions, this was the first time she saw things from his perspective.
