"Trash?"
Ye Xuan chuckled playfully, turned around, squinted his eyes slightly, and coldly looked at the speaker.
The man had a sword-like brow and starry eyes, his brows were like horizontal blades, outlined with a pencil, thick and dense, rough and dark.
That face, in profile, had distinct angles, as if carved by a sword, showing an extraordinary handsomeness.
His short hair was very energetic, giving a lively feeling.
The man walked through the crowd, directly approaching Ye Xuan.
Ye Xuan smiled, the light in his eyes becoming deeper, stared at the man, and said in a deep voice, "Are you sure you weren't just talking shit?"
"Hehe."
The man responded with a faint smile.
Suddenly, his expression changed drastically, the smile vanished, replaced by an extreme coldness.
Suddenly, he punched towards Ye Xuan's face.
"That punch was quite acceptable."
Ye Xuan sneered, slightly shifted his body, and the fist brushed past his nose.
