Arm, broken.
Standing next to Ye Yao, the young man in black clothes covered his arm with death, and his blood sprayed out crazily, dyeing a large area of the ground red.
The broken arm is his, not Ye Yao.
"What's going on here?"
There...
Arm, broken.
Standing next to Ye Yao, the young man in black clothes covered his arm with death, and his blood sprayed out crazily, dyeing a large area of the ground red.
The broken arm is his, not Ye Yao.
"What's going on here?"
There...