Kapitel 675: Damn, What Bad Luck!

Cynthia felt a searing pain on her cheek. As she wiped her cheek with her fingers, she noticed the wetness on her fingertips--blood. Her eyes narrowed, and a cold glint flashed in her gaze. She rubbed the blood between her fingers, her eyes following the trajectory of the shattered flowerpot to the bullet embedded in the flowerbed. The cracks spidering out from the impact site indicated the bullet's formidable power. If the shot had not deviated, it wouldn't be the pot that was broken, but her head.

Miley's pupils contracted as she noticed Cynthia standing frozen in place, apparently shocked. A faint trace of disdain flickered in Miley's eyes. This pampered socialite, knowing only indulgence and pleasure, was utterly paralyzed by such a minor incident. If she faced something truly bloody, wouldn't she just faint on the spot?