Why Do You Doubt My Intelligence, Host?

Yu Weimin soon reached the dark alley and hit his head against the brick wall. Blood splattered against his forehead, making his skin feel cool and painful. He made no moves to heal it. Instead, he lay on the ground without any movement and closed his eyes, waiting for the footsteps to echo in his ears.

The footsteps did echo. He heard it crystal clear.

It looks like his plan worked very well.

Soon, a worried voice sounded in his ears. "Yu Weimin, are you okay?"

Yu Weimin groaned as he weakly lifted his hands, rubbing his forehead. He opened his eyes and glanced at the blood on his palms. There was a panicked expression on his face as he raised his head and said:

"Where am I? Why is there blood on my forehead?"

Shao Da frowned. There was a group of police officers behind him, taking care of the mafia fight in the middle of the street. He quickly called the doctors and said, "Give him first aid and take him back."