"Iceberg!"
Su Sheng threw several silver needles, taking out the remaining enemies before he entered the office. His willpower was unmatched, although the closer he got, the worse his headache became.
Walking was still manageable, but his head really hurt unbearably.
Finally, when Zijun saw it was him, she put down the green gourd, and the music stopped immediately. The people outside the door seemed caught in a surreal dream, taking a moment to come back to reality.
"Su Sheng, you're here."
Zijun looked seriously at the man before her, shirtless, with scars on his arms and chest, and his face smeared with camouflage paint—his explosive, potent presence like a walking hormone.
Compared to his usual shameless and rogue image, he was like a completely different person, but at this moment, both personas merged into one.
