The cold and indifferent gaze landed on him, yet Su Chengyu couldn't detect a shred of emotion.
Su Chengyu had almost forgotten how long it had been since he last felt this—this feeling of an eye fixed upon him, yet seemingly seeing through him as though he didn't exist.
To the other party, Su Chengyu's existence seemed entirely devoid of value.
Taking a deep breath, Su Chengyu attempted to steady the chaotic rhythm in his chest. But as soon as he opened his mouth, a mouthful of dark, clotting blood came gushing out. He fell to the ground in utter disgrace, unable to utter a single word.
"You have an old injury?"
Luo Qing, noticing Su Chengyu's condition, spoke in a light tone. However, he quickly muttered as if to himself.
"But it doesn't matter—injured or not, it won't change your fate."
Su Chengyu said nothing, this time not just because he could barely speak, but because he understood that these words weren't mere arrogance.
