Lawrence Winters quickly glanced at the man with the crew cut, instinctively stepping aside.
The man looked about twenty-eight or nine, with a very refined and elegant appearance, but Lawrence Winters only dared to glance at him once and then quickly averted his gaze, not daring a second look.
This person is not simple, he should have once been a graceful gentleman, having experienced a life-and-death transformation, his essence changed from water and wood to metal and fire, fated to wield weapons, not someone to mess with, absolutely not.
She almost shrank herself, but the young man who just hit someone and made their nose bleed moved behind her.
Lawrence Winters could only feel a chill attacking from behind.
She hurriedly swung her small bag behind her without thinking and simultaneously lowered her posture, sweeping her left leg out, delivering a trip to the man behind her, kicking him to the ground.
