"Who... who the hell are you?"

The rain and wind gradually stopped.

His life was flowing by him. The umbrella in his hand, which was his predestined artifact and had gone through thick and thin with him, was in tatters. Young Master Tingyu had never felt so weak before.

He knew that his death was imminent.

He never expected that he, who had been doted on by thousands of people, would be assassinated the first time he went out of the ...