Cyrus was somewhat annoyed that a secret he had hidden for years was suddenly coaxed out by Roland.
His right hand slowly clenched into a fist beneath the table, and his nails instantly turned into pitch-black crow claws. However, it was only for a moment before he released his grip, returning to slender and elegant, white palms.
His hands were smooth as jade, not at all like those of a middle-aged man, but rather like a work of art.
Throughout the entire process of him secretly gathering power and then releasing it, Roland merely sipped his fruit wine lightly, as if he had no reaction whatsoever.
But Cyrus knew very well that Roland couldn't have been completely unaffected.
Cyrus felt a bit unsatisfied. Was there really such a large gap in power between him and Roland? The other party dared not to take any precautions at all.
