Zhao Cheng's voice echoed out, every word ringing with the weight of a hammer striking the ground.
He was no self-sacrificing hero or saint, but when it was within his power, he did not mind extending a little of the kindness owed from one human being to another, even to strangers.
Of course, having more people around was not entirely a burden. At the very least, if something unusual happened and Zhao Cheng could not return in time, Zheng Yimeng would undoubtedly be safer with more people around, especially with Li Huang'er protecting her.
Wu Yiran, sitting on the ground, heard that familiar voice, and her previously firm conviction began to waver again.
It was one thing for them to look alike, but surely their voices could not be this alike too?!
Yet she could also sense that although their voices were nearly identical, every word spoken by this man who looked so much like Zhao Cheng seemed to be filled with power, carrying a sharpness like the sword in his hand.
As for Zhao Cheng, after saying all that, he did not bother confirming whether these survivors would stay or leave. He simply turned and walked away.
In truth, there were many cars on the road at this time. Yet every vehicle had stalled in this strange blood-red space, while electronic devices continued to function as though nothing were wrong. No one knew why.
"Yiran, this gentleman is way too cool, isn't he? Especially that voice—it makes you feel so safe the moment you hear it. Oh no, it's the feeling of my heart being stolen!"
Wu Yiran's best friend spoke in a low voice as she panted heavily.
Wu Yiran's eye twitched at that. In the end, she did not remind her that this voice belonged to the