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... ding, those without.

Chatters from parents echoed through the area as they fussed over their children, making sure they were in the right frame of mind for the competition.

But amidst all this chaos, one part of the crowd stood out. Youths whose aura felt different. Unshakable demeanors. Cold, distant gazes. The veins.

The rest made sure to steer clear of that section, even the captains, who were themselves walking weapons of mass destruction. Yet somehow, in this gatheri ...

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Is there something wrong with the style of “photography”?

(ps: In fact, this is a pure love story, but I happen to like Renqi.)

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