Suddenly, a sharp light burst from Qin Wushuang's eyes. Like an invisible rope, it trapped Little Jiang tightly.
Fixed by this piercing look, instantly Little Jiang felt uncomfortable. As if hundreds of millions of golden needles punctured his skin, it seemed as though they could penetrate his body and enter deep into his divine soul.
As Little Jiang barely resisted this look, instantly sweat soaked his spine and he was endlessly nervous.
After a while, a slight smile spilled out from the corner of Qin Wushuang's mouth. He withdrew that piercing look and looked at the cup in his hand. He snapped his finger and said, "Waiter, another pot of alcohol."
"Alright!" That waiter already ran over with a long drop in his tone.
Little Jiang wiped the sweat from his forehead and said with an apologetic smile, "Sir, such a powerful aura, it seems I came to the right person."
"Tell me, what is your mission?"
