The night wind, cold and cutting.
On the silent rooftop of Jinrong Building, only the faint sound of wind swept past, with Fang Yi holding a bloodstained arrow in his hand, standing alone under the night sky, the intense lights of several circling helicopters periodically swept over him.
Like a fierce tiger or a ferocious wolf, Fang Yi became a dazzling existence.
Yet even though Fang Yi had just shown his sharp fangs, there were still those who harbored murderous intent towards him.
"Attack!" shouted the middle-aged man.
In his hand appeared a retractable red-tasseled spear; he charged forward first, followed by Wang Tong and Mo Shu.
The spear tip was sharp, its cold gleam like a dragon.
"I expected you to make a move," Fang Yi simply used the bloody arrow in his hand as a weapon and struck back.
"You turned my son into a eunuch, Mao Yanfeng is going to do the same to you," the middle-aged man's eyes filled with murderous intent.
