"Who ... Who are you?" Looking at the purple clown's sinister face, Zhao Yu was shocked.
Obviously, he did not expect the other party to say such words.
Once upon a time, Zhao Yu asked himself honestly. Ever since he had transmigrated, his hands had been stained with a lot of blood, from the earliest Crimson eight Secret Service team, to cui Xiaolong's head that he had shot, to the rain of bullets in vachery, and the violent assault in the house of sin ...
The number of people who had died in Zhao Yu's hands was not small.
Because of this, Zhao Yu almost went to see a psychiatrist. It turned out that the root of the tinnitus that he had suffered in vachelia was also because of this.
However, very few people knew about these troubles that came from the heart.
So, now that the purple clown had suddenly brought up the knot in his heart, Zhao Yu could not help but be shocked!
Could it be ... That this purple clown was someone who knew him very well?