The heavy rain poured down relentlessly.
In the quiet valley, everyone stood still.
Li Qiao stopped again, glanced at the Desert Eagle in his hand, and shook her head unhurriedly, "What’s there to be afraid of?"
The torrential rain made Li Qiao’s words sound faint and almost inaudible.
She lifted her finger to wipe the rainwater from the corner of her eye and this time, she didn’t stop. She walked straight towards Shang Yu.
The next second, a gunshot reverberated throughout the valley.
Shang Yu’s gun finally deviated from its original trajectory, falling from the forehead to hit the other man’s shoulder, ruthlessly piercing through his scapula.
The man howled in pain, fell to the ground, and clutched at his wound, convulsing violently.
The man who had been standing by, shivering the whole time, was recognized by Li Qiao as she approached.
He was the man who had roared in the South Sea Entertainment City that day, demanding Shang Shaoyan hand over his big brother.
So it turned out that these brothers were in his hands all along.
So this place must be Liuyun’s tightly sealed... Secret Hall.
Li Qiao faced the downpour, walking slowly toward Shang Yu.
The sound of gunfire did not stop her. Seconds later, she came to a halt, looked down at the man’s slightly raised arm, reached out to grasp his fingertips, and in an instant took the Desert Eagle into her own hand.
The shattered hair on Shang Yu’s forehead was completely wet, hanging down limply, hiding his shadowy eyes.
Then, in front of everyone present, Li Qiao flicked the gun in her hand, curved her lips into a smile, and inverted the gun to aim at the man on the ground.
Was she going to kill him? Actually, she could.
Li Qiao did not avert her gaze; those doe eyes, washed by the rain, became even clearer and more penetrating as she stared straight at Shang Yu.
One standing, one sitting, both with a light and unrestrained look in their eyes.
At that moment, Shang Yu’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, and after a long look, he lifted his arm and clasped Li Qiao’s wrist.
He forcefully dismantled her position of holding the gun and snatched back the pistol. Under Li Qiao’s calm gaze, he fired three more shots at the man on the ground. Blood splattered everywhere.
All the bullets hit his legs; his lower body was doomed to be useless.
But no one cared whether the man on the ground was dead or alive because if it weren’t for him, Qingyu wouldn’t have died.
And Qingyu’s death was a hundred times more miserable than his.
The people of the Yan Emperor were renowned for their loyalty and righteousness, but they also took revenge for grievances.
At this time, Shang Yu stood up with the gun in one hand and came in front of Li Qiao.
He hooked around Li Qiao’s neck, leaning over with a murderous look in his eyes, still uttering those two words, "Are you scared?"
Under the searchlight, amidst the downpour, they stood face to face, one clad in black and the other in white.
Li Qiao was forced to look up at Shang Yu, the man’s grip on the back of her neck was strong, causing a vague pain.
But she didn’t move, blinked her rain-drenched eyes, lifted her right hand to his heart, nodded with a smile, "Yes, quite scared."
Shang Yu’s expression changed in an instant, and his eyes filled with a shocking tinge of blood.
At that moment, Li Qiao’s palm was placed where his heart was, the damp rainwater trailing along her arm. Her eyelashes quivered slightly as she sighed, "I’m afraid you’re making me wait too long... Afraid that you don’t like me."
And she feared that this first emotional attachment of her life wouldn’t see a proper beginning and a proper end.
As she finished speaking, Li Qiao clearly felt the man’s body shiver slightly.
It wasn’t obvious, but it caused the hand behind her neck to press even more firmly against her skin.
Li Qiao truly did not know why Shang Yu had lost control tonight. She slowly raised her hand, took hold of the man’s drenched arm, rubbed it gently, and spoke softly—