This voice gave Third Young Master Chen an ominous premonition.
He remembered that when he first started out, he seemed to have heard this voice at the scene of a violent crime.
He prayed in his heart, hoping it was not that person.
A man, lean and over six feet tall, with a pale face as white as paper and lips devoid of any color, exuded an extreme sickness. His black leather shoes creaked on the wooden stairs as he stepped down.
The creaking sound was rhythmic, bewitching, like the prelude to a timeless music piece, akin to the beginning of a storm about to transform into a tornado.
The man's gaze was calm, not looking at his feet, as if the path before him was clear and nothing could block his way.
However, the fat man who had just been kicked away by Lin Hai had his hand stepped on right then.
"Ah"
In a daze, the fat man let out a piercing scream.
Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
