Lies are the art of language.
While most people lie out of necessity, Feng Mu can build a stage for lies, weave a script, so that when he speaks the final lie with conviction, it immediately dons the "crown of justice," beyond desecration.
Ma Xuan's lips turned pale, and he seemed to understand why the people around Feng Mu were bewitched by him.
"His groundwork for lies is too sufficient, like the prelude of an evil spirit in a story before devouring someone, luring people step by step closer, finally offering their lives and souls willingly."
Ma Xuan stared unblinkingly at Feng Mu, quickly calculating his own choices in mind.
He discreetly glanced at the two gun barrels aimed at him, contemplating the possibility of dodging the bullets.
Ma Xuan seldom engaged in physical fights, appearing refined, but in fact, he had the martial arts capability of a third-grade peak, allowing him room to avoid handgun bullets.
