Fan Jingyu crawled into the nearby woods like a dog, praying that Ye Qingtian hadn't seen him.
In this lifetime, when had Young Master Fan ever been so disheveled?
Clearly a martial artist, he found it difficult to escape at this moment. He tripped over a tree root and fell with a puff, his face scratched by branches, leaving several cuts.
The once glamorous facade now resembled a refugee fleeing from a slum.
The contrast was like heaven to hell!
"It's over! It's over!"
Despair filled his eyes, knowing the commotion had alerted Ye Qingtian.
He was going to die!
But after waiting for a long time, without seeing Ye Qingtian come, he had already left.
At this moment, Fan Jingyu suddenly understood that in Ye Qingtian's eyes, he wasn't even considered a dog, more like a cockroach in a latrine at most.
Ancient Capital Province, Anbei City.
Just two days ago it was lively, but today it descended into chaos.
