Accompanied by a woman's piercing scream, Wen Mu's expressive features suddenly twisted, then flushed red.
Stunned, she lifted her eyes, looking toward the man with a stern face.
"Luoli..." Her voice trembled, completely changed in tone.
Han Luoli held the woman's delicate throat with one hand, his grip tightening, his originally bewildered and enchanting eyes now clear and brimming with a chilling murderous intent.
"Wen Mu, you really do understand me, you know how to make me feel more pain."
With a hand filled with intense hatred, it kept tightening, Wen Mu's eyes were rolling back.
Deprived of breath, her hands forgot to struggle, and she couldn't help but recall when she was eight years old.
