Bei Yun took in Qiao Xiaomai's silent expression, the smile on his face widening. He particularly loved seeing others wear that look of hatred for him, yet unable to do anything about it.
Refreshing.
Every pore of his body was basking in celestial bliss!
He lowered his head again to examine the Divine Crossbow in his hands. The sooner this Divine Weapon was completed, the better—it would be poetic justice to use the weapon created by Yang Wenxiao against him. Yang Wenxiao would be furious to the point of despair.
Back in the Capital City, he had been so high and mighty toward Bei Yun. At the time, Bei Yun had already wanted to lash out and challenge him.
But he had always been someone who could endure and wait for the right moment. Look at him now—patience had paid off, and he'd managed to snag Yang Wenxiao's Divine Crossbow.
