Yu Yitong felt a chilling wind.
By the time he realized it, there was no time to dodge.
However, that punch never came down.
A hand suddenly reached out, grabbing Qin Xue's wrist with such force that it fixed her fist in mid-air, rendering it completely immobile.
The one who had seized Qin Xue was Mo Shangjun.
Her wrist ached with intense pain; the grip was like iron pincers. Qin Xue's expression remained unchanged, as if nothing had happened, but she was straining at the wrist, trying to break free from Mo Shangjun's shackles.
But she couldn't move.
Mo Shangjun extended only one hand, the other lazily tucked into her pocket, her head slightly tilted, gazing indolently at her as if it were effortless.
It was unclear whether she was truly at ease or merely feigning it.
At the very least, Qin Xue couldn't tell.
After a moment, Mo Shangjun released Qin Xue's wrist, turned her head, glanced at Yu Yitong, and said lightly, "I'll take over."
"Oh."
