Seeing clearly that it was Wen Nannan standing in front of him, Tang Zhijun tightened his grip on the axe in his hand. As a experienced player, he never underestimated anyone.
He showed nothing on his face, but his gaze quickly scanned the cluttered room. "Is it just you?" he asked.
His gaze locked onto her, his posture tense and ready—an overwhelming pressure radiated from him.
Wen Nannan instinctively took a small step back, glanced behind her, then nodded timidly. "Yes, just me."
Though her words were truthful, her actions seemed like an attempt to cover up something.
Blocking the exit, Tang Zhijun grabbed her arm and strode into the room. He flung aside a broom and other items scattered around, earching for anyone else who might be hiding.
Watching the man act with such urgency, Wen Nannan furrowed her brows. Something was off.