"This..."
The two middle-aged men knelt on the ground, stammering, unable to speak.
Chen Nan's eyebrows shot up, his face turning cold, and he did not conceal the killing aura emanating from him: "What, do you want to die?"
"Spare our lives, great hero, I'll talk."
The middle-aged man on the left directly wet his pants in fear, just about to answer Chen Nan's question, when suddenly a loud shout came—
"Such arrogance from a young one, daring to kill my people of Su Qingqing, do you not know how to write the word 'death'?" Accompanying the voice, a woman in pink clothing, stepping on a lotus platform, her ribbons fluttering, swiftly flew over from afar.
Chen Nan, hearing this, quickly looked up.
On the lotus platform, the woman's figure was tall, her face as delicate as droplets, exactly like Su Qingqing, except her eyes felt somewhat unfamiliar.
