Black suit, tie, leather shoes.
In the midst of chaos, the neatly dressed Huo Siyu appeared, and in that instant,
it was as if a signal had been given, and the gunfire naturally ceased.
Bilious smoke, a blood-drenched battlefield, suddenly fell silent.
"It's really your style," Shen Yu said quietly as he disembarked from the helicopter.
His steps were slow yet unexpectedly stable.
Looking straight at Huo Siyu, he had thought he would hate him.
But the result was an unexpected calm.
Life had reached its end, and he felt incredibly peaceful—it seemed his self-cultivation had risen to a new level.
"I don't want to waste words," Huo Siyu spoke.
He took out the gun he had selected in the car, adeptly loading it.
"I told you before, if you want to take Shen Li away, win against me."
Shen Yu chuckled lightly, a sense of relief in his laughter.
"A duel?"
It was definitely Huo Siyu's way, and he liked it too.
He remembered that time, also a duel, a one-on-one contest.
