Guo Shun stopped speaking, his lips dry and cracked with traces of blood. He was trembling with the pressure on his insides, yet he still wanted to look up at the figure clad in the bright yellow attire.
With his lowly status, to be personally subjected to such a high-standard treatment by the supreme ruler of the world, at least he did not live in vain.
He had just slightly lifted his head, only catching a glimpse of the bright yellow hem, when the white fatty beside him noticed his intention. With a deft move, his head was immediately forced downwards, unable to lift again.
Hu Miaomiao withdrew his hand, his gaze cold, and scoffed, "Does this scum deserve to lay eyes on the Son of Heaven?!"
The bright yellow figure remained silent, standing motionless.
Guo Shun showed a sickly smile towards the ground, hehehe, what a pity, if he could see the face of the Son of Heaven before dying, it would have been more worthwhile.
