A sudden ear-splitting scream came from behind!
Qiao Yiyuan whirled around, only to see the thug's wrist, twisted at an eerie angle by someone.
Clearly, his bone was broken.
From the iron-clam like hand, his pupils involuntarily shrank!
"Is it you?!"
The guy's scream was so shrill that it made the other thugs' scalp tingle, they all stopped in their tracks to see what was happening.
Under the faint light, a tall, elongated shadow crossed by Qiao Yiyuan, walking towards the crowd as if he didn't exist.
His clothes fluttered in the autumn breeze, his hair a bit disheveled, giving off a sense of unique unruliness.
Lan Xiu had his hands in his pockets, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, and his eyes half-closed in disdain, as if he was looking at a bunch of trash.
His cavalier attitude was no different from the wealthy young masters who enjoyed the theatrical performances in ancient times.
