Under the bleak sky, at the end of the cold rain, everything becomes so blurry.
Only a pair of eyes filled with rage remain so clear.
Like flames.
Like someone who has journeyed a long distance, the man with the Central Earth traditional beard is covered in mud, yet amidst the beard and mud specks, there are traces of blood.
His expression is like that of a beast ready to devour someone.
Just a gaze left a sharp scratch on Shekri's face.
The falling raindrops evaporated one after another, unable to penetrate that gaze which had become solid, the crisp sound of friction accompanied as two fingers of his right hand silently stretched out, curled slightly like hooks, ready to slit the throat of the uninvited guest.
"I remember, I've said it before — you're not welcome here, Shekri."
"After all, we are all White Country People, why the estrangement, Ni Lin?"
