Drip-drip...
Drip-drip...
Bright red beads of blood slipped from Nie Feiyang's cheek and dropped to the ground.
For five whole years he had never been injured, and now someone had actually wounded his most cherished cheek.
"You should die!"
Nie Feiyang violently turned his head, his eyes red with fury as he glared at Mo Han, and his right hand drew a short knife from his waist, ready to advance.
"Young master, please go back, it's dangerous here."
At that moment, a familiar voice rang out, it was the very person who had just warned Nie Feiyang.
Everyone looked up and saw a middle-aged man with long hair and sunglasses slowly walk in.
Zhou Xintong's expression paused, was this person not the long-time friend who lived in her grandfather's yard?
No wonder grandfather dared not act rashly, it turned out these people had always been monitoring them in secret.
"Nie Long, kill him for me!"
