"How could a bookish scholar, who cannot even truss a chicken, accomplish such a feat?"
Ouyang Guiyuan sold a mystery, smiling as he looked at Wang Anfeng, as if waiting for him to guess. In his words, he had gradually grasped the rhythm.
If this was compared to a sword duel, he had already gained the upper hand. No matter how Wang Anfeng answered, he would fall into the field Ouyang Guiyuan excelled at. There were many things he wanted to do and no desire to die here.
Wang Anfeng, however, did not reply, his eyes slightly narrowed. It wasn't until the smile on Ouyang Guiyuan's face began to falter that he moved, lightly rubbing the teacup with thumb and forefinger of his right hand, a red line of fire flowing across the back of his hand to form the head of a qilin.
Scorching heat waves began to silently occupy the entire room.
Ouyang Guiyuan's black hair by his temples began to curl slightly due to the high temperature.
