Chapter 337 I’m Late
- Lin Chuan surged to his feet, rage boiling over. That slash of his was a death wish—a one‑way trip—meant to take Lin Yaofeng’s head.
- Lin Yaofeng drew a long breath, face like ice. “Stop him. Stop him!”
- Someone behind Lin Yaofeng squeezed the trigger. The bullet punched through Lin Chuan’s shoulder. He grunted, but his momentum didn’t falter. He kept charging straight at Lin Yaofeng.