An overwhelming aura of killing intent swept through, causing Duan Wenqian's face to turn pale as he looked at Ye Lingfeng, his expression filled with fear.
When did that useless person become like a god of slaughter?
Does this powerful aura really belong to the same Ye Lingfeng who used to be a dandy?
Before he could comprehend it, a chubby little foot suddenly landed on his chest, causing him intense pain. He suddenly snapped back to reality, feeling a bloody and sweet taste in his throat, almost spitting out blood again.
Zhouzhou looked at him discontentedly, "Hurry up and speak, if you don't, we'll continue."
As she spoke, she pointed at the ball, her words filled with excitement, as if she couldn't wait for him to keep quiet so she could continue playing.
Seeing her intention, Duan Wenqian's pupils contracted. Remembering how she kicked him away earlier, he couldn't help but shudder in fear. He quickly said, "I'll talk, I'll talk."