Qin Zhizhi knitted her brows, her gaze as sharp as a falcon's, fixed intently on the henchman's clenched hand.
His knuckles were white, as though he was expending the very last of his strength to guard some secret.
A dead silence hung over the surroundings; every person's breathing was clearly audible, and the oppressive atmosphere rolled in like a tide, nearly swallowing them whole.
Chapter 159