Only when one felt the most confident and pleased would falling from those heights be engraved in one’s heart. Zhao Fu’s eyes coldly looked at the little beggar as his hand started to slowly squeeze his neck.
The little beggar felt his neck being crushed, and his face became red from being unable to breathe. His hands clawed at the hand that was holding his neck, but he was unable to resist at all. By now, the little beggar was nearly out of breath, and his legs furiously kicked in the air.
“Let go of my little brother!” two figures suddenly appeared as a voice called out.
Seeing this, Zhao Fu saw a boy and a girl who both looked 14 or 15 years old. They had delicate looks and looked quite similar, and they were most likely twins. They each held a dagger and glared at Zhao Fu hatefully.
Seeing their youthful faces, Zhao Fu lightly laughed and casually threw the little beggar at them, causing him to hit a wall. After sliding down to the ground, he immediately fainted.