The man's voice was deep and hoarse, yet it rang out distinctly.
The dusky twilight was merging with the night, and it seemed as if he had arrived shrouded in darkness.
Clad in an imposing black, his face rarely showed any expression, making him difficult to laugh.
But if he ever slightly furrowed his brow, that too was a rare sight of defiance.
Chilly as ice, yet indifferent and composed.
"Who is this?" someone asked quietly, "Does anyone know him?"
The man seemed to have stepped out of the night itself, enveloping the event in a wave of chill, instantly imparting a few degrees of cold austerity to the atmosphere of the entire scene. The innate coldness he carried as if even the winter wind would lose its color in comparison.
Especially those eyes...
So cold they seemed devoid of life.
Fixating on Liang Wenzhong on the stage, his body trembling lightly, fingers twitching, "thud— "the microphone hit the ground.
