Ye Nianmo frowned. He was not a murderer. He did not like the feeling of blood. If it was not necessary, he did not want to start.

In the midst of hesitation, he did not expect a woman to fight back, a gunshot, Derek's voice with cold mockery, "Mr. Ye, it seems that the victory or defeat has been decided."

Ye Nianmo stood up and smoothed down the wrinkles on his sleeve. There was no sense of frustration on his face. "I don't think I lost."

"Master." Yebo whispered and threw his pistol to him, but just before the confrontation, Yebo had quickly swept to Derek's side, while the black...