Jiang Mochuan stared intently ahead. Even though Su Muyao's figure was no longer in sight, he did not withdraw his gaze. His eyes were so cold, even carrying a hint of barely detectable vicious energy.
Jiang Mochuan was inherently a proud and indifferent person, also somewhat stubborn and self-opinionated. Due to his family background and innate talent, he had always been adored by others and had never suffered such humiliation.
Nor had he ever been so blatantly disgraced.
Su Muyao!
How dare she.
Jiang Mochuan clenched his hands tightly at his sides, the veins in his hands bulging, his face turning a ghastly shade of green.
At this moment, no one dared to approach and speak to Jiang Mochuan to risk his wrath.
Everyone knew that the Young Master was surely harboring a great rage within his heart.
Seeing the look on Jiang Dao's face, everyone's expressions turned even paler.
