Fang Cheng stepped into the room without speaking immediately.
He walked straight to the Eight Immortals Table, pulled out the bamboo chair, and sat down assertively.
As he settled down, the waves of heat permeating the room seemed to find their source, rushing towards him.
The air began to circulate again, yet the high temperature didn't disperse at all.
Fang Cheng sat upright, his gaze calmly assessing the three people in front of him.
The Professor and Lin Chuqiao stood on either side, like two steady protectors.
This silent gaze was more unbearable than any severe interrogation.
Bean curled up completely, burying her head lower, even breathing cautiously.
Like a small beast facing a top predator, surrendering and trembling instinctively.
Xu Kuan turned to the side, trying to shield Jiang Yun with his not-so-broad shoulders.
Yet his tightly clenched fists trembled uncontrollably, his whole body felt like it was being roasted, his shirt soaked through in an instant.
