Qin Wushang's eyes were fixed on someone in the distance, and suddenly he looked into his eyes. The silence there seemed to be brewing a violent storm, and there was an unknown dangerous aura in his black pupils. His face was hidden in the dusk, but his pale face could still be vaguely seen, with his thin lips pressed together slightly. If it weren't for those sharp eyes, he would be a handsome young man as gentle as jade, with a tall and straight figure, graceful facial features, and a pair of beautiful hands. But the tough profile lines swept away the femininity of his pale skin, and those calm eyes forced those who approached him to retreat to his feet. The masculine domineering he faintly exuded seemed to be reminding him every moment:
He is always looked up to.