Going Home
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
At the train station.
Fang Ping casually grabbed a hand that had reached over to him, pinching the wrist so hard it turned blue.
Surprisingly, the person did not struggle, nor did he pull out a weapon. Instead, he was nodding and bowing as he looked at Fang Ping with an imploring gaze.
Shaking his head slightly, Fang Ping released his hand.
The person ran away faster than a rabbit, disappearing with a few people who seemed to be his partners in crime, leaving not a shadow in sight.
Fang Ping could not help but lament. In a different world, even thieves had such miserable existences.
In a world with martial artists, who could know whether or not the people beside them were martial artists?
If they were to bump into a martial artist in a random theft, no matter how fearless they were, they could only admit defeat and act pitifully.