Wan Qianli gave a cold laugh, not caring in the slightest whether Li Feng would die or not, and directly swung the bottle down at his head.
But as it turned out, the baijiu bottle was indeed sturdy and did not break.
Uh-oh.
Wan Qianli looked at the baijiu bottle in his hand and squinted at Li Feng, "Sarry, really, very sarry."
While mouthing an insincere apology, Wan Qianli rolled his shoulders and swung the baijiu bottle again.
The bystanders couldn't bear to watch. Beer and red wine bottles were one thing—they were round and not particularly thick. But a baijiu bottle was different, being at least twice as thick and also an irregular polygon.
It looked painfully heavy.
"Stop."
Just then, a sharp shout came from the crowd, causing everyone to turn and look. It was that beauty in a leather jacket who had been energetically dancing on stage.
Wan Qianli turned to look at Jin Beibei, his mouth secretly swallowing saliva: "Heh, I hadn't expected a beauty like you to intervene."