Yun Ya didn't turn her head, just paused for a moment, and her knife fell without hesitation.
The next moment, a black shadow rushed over quickly, snatching the kitten from her grasp.
Yun Ya moved her nose slightly, as the scent of the wind brought a whiff of fragrance, like the smell of sunlight and grass mixed together, pleasant to the nose.
Yan Song had a severe case of mysophobia, almost to the point of pathology.
She squatted without moving, her head slightly drooping, appearing somewhat silent.
The youth held the cat by the ears, lifting the kitten up and scrutinizing it with a frown.
With no foothold, the kitten flailed its limbs in a desperate wail.
"Tch... filthy to death," the disdain in his tone was unmistakable; he turned his frowning gaze toward the girl squatting on the ground, "Hey, which class are you from? Carrying a restricted blade to school, such a young girl, and yet so cruel to a kitten, are you mentally ill?"
The voice was so arrogantly sharp.
