Jiangzhou's night was pleasing to the eye.
The moonlight, clear and bright, sprinkled on the frightened face of Xu Zhaopei as her body trembled.
A gentle breeze carrying a bloody scent swept over abruptly. The scene of blood spraying instantly made Xu Zhaopei's stomach churn, and she couldn't help but vomit.
Xu Zhaopei's heartbeat was frantic, and she stared at Fang Yu fearfully, clueless.
Fang Yu had killed again.
If the last time on the rooftop was self-defense, what was this?
The moment she arrived here, she saw Fang Yu overpowering his opponent with formidable strength.
The man who was killed clearly had fear in his eyes, he was already immobile, yet Fang Yu still killed him.
The bloodstains on the ground and the scattered iron rods looked like remnants of a great war, a complete mess.
But Xu Zhaopei couldn't focus on these things. What she truly cared about was that Fang Yu had killed.
That meant—crime!
