In an instant, the voice message disappeared from his phone, transforming into an arrow of light. It shot out and, in the blink of an eye, pierced Fake Mo Zhicheng's heart, disregarding his current state, which could only be described as invincible.
Fake Mo Zhicheng could remain expressionless, his eyes unchanged even when Uncle tore his flesh until it was a bloody mess. But now, as the arrow of light pierced his heart—though it clearly hadn't harmed his flesh, not leaving even a wound—his face turned pale, and he clutched his chest in pain.
His movements were now completely distorted. He could no longer control his strength, and he rolled across the ground, crashing into the wall of a factory building.
Fake Mo Zhicheng leaned against the wall, his face deathly pale as he clutched his chest.
The ethereal figure of a woman slowly materialized before him.
