The voice was soft, yet it carried a strength that pierced right to the heart.
Upon hearing the familiar voice, Yang Xiaoqiao's emotions, teetering on the brink of collapse, calmed. She felt like a small boat, lost at sea, that had suddenly spotted a lighthouse.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw a familiar face.
The face of the man who had caused her such immense sadness was right before her, wearing an expression of distress and sorrow.
Suddenly, she screamed.
Behind Ye Xiong, she saw the flash of a blade.
Taking advantage of Ye Xiong's momentary distraction, a thug had scrambled to his feet, raised his knife, and viciously stabbed at Ye Xiong's back.
Yang Xiaoqiao's heart leaped into her throat.
Just as the blade was about to plunge into Ye Xiong's back, he reacted as if he had eyes in the back of his head. Striking later but moving faster, he shot his hand out, seized the thug's wrist, and twisted it with immense force.