"Young Master!"
Mo Nanjue slid down in front of Tong Ran, his uninjured left hand supporting the carpet. His handsome face was twisted in pain, cold sweat dripping down his exquisite chin.
The Men in Black helped him, and one of them took out a bandage from his waist. Mo Nanjue, with pale lips, shook his head, "The poison powder's been spilled, it's useless."
"Young Master!"
The eyes of several Men in Black reddened. They had meticulously prepared everything, including the operations on the East Hall side, but they hadn't anticipated a problem here. Who would have thought Tong Ran would stab him?
Who would have thought?!
Tong Ran stood leaning against the wall, still holding the dagger in her hand. Her eyes were vacant, not focusing on any particular spot. As soon as anyone approached her, she would swing the dagger.
One of the men, filled with anger, stood up directly, pulled out a gun, and was about to shoot at Tong Ran, "I'll fucking kill you!"
"Stop!"
