What was stolen was not just sand, He Jiaqing continued to rub his finger, and drop by drop, ink appeared at his fingertips.
This was the reason Fu Lianhong's brush couldn't seem to produce ink.
Next were blood beads, Xiuling's blood.
Every drop of blood that came out between her was stolen by He Jiaqing, hence Zhang Xiuling couldn't write words on the wall.
Xiuling was the head of the Hundred Flowers Gate. She had experienced many battles, but at this moment she was very scared. The overwhelming strength disparity was suffocating her.
"Sister Xiu Ling, come with me to the salon, I'm sincerely inviting..." He Jiaqing couldn't help but yawn; to him, perhaps the current battle was too uninteresting.
Xiuling pulled Fu Lianhong, turned around, and ran. She knew she couldn't escape, but at this moment, her actions were completely instinctive.
He Jiaqing slowly pursued from behind, his steps extremely slow.
