The Wind

Yang Feng's desolate eyes swept over the bugs in front of him. All he had to do was flick a finger and they would disappear off the face of the Earth. Such insignificant little things… What's the point of having them alive? His uncaring behavior thickened the air around him, a menacing dark aura eluding from his tall, impressive frame.

Getting rid of Zhao Wenjin was easy. To handle these two babbling fools was childsplay. 

Then he felt a small tug on his sleeves. A cold pair of eyes glanced down at the frowning woman beside him. His eyes, obsolete and dark like freshly grated ink, clashed with her molten copper eyes. Burning like a Phoenix whose flames ignited the night, she was unhappy with his behavior. When his eyes met hers, she could see her reflection within them. She stared at him as if she could understand what he was thinking. He didn't like that.