Lin Fan heard the voice, his hand suspended in mid-air, not striking.
But now Lao Qiu was completely defenseless; if Lin Fan struck, Lao Qiu would undoubtedly die.
Lin Fan refrained from attacking out of respect for Zhu Qilue, not because he couldn't kill Lao Qiu, it was as easy as a flick of the finger.
Just a slight movement was all it took.
No one could stop him!
But now he wanted to hear what Zhu Qilue had to say.
Lin Fan looked at Zhu Qilue, only to see the latter hurrying over, looking grave, with a solemn expression.
Lao Qiu heard Zhu Qilue's voice, as if seeing the hope of survival, hurriedly raised his head, with a mournful face, eagerly looking toward the direction of the voice, regardless of whether he saw a figure or not, he shouted loudly.
