When Anyang kicked open the second door, Song Zhengyang came out, holding a thick stick in his hand, and walked towards him, the stick dragged on the ground, pulling out a long trace.

The blood on his arm ran down his arm, staining the stick red.

An Yang looked at him expressionlessly, rubbed his wrist, and stood in place without moving.

He didn't even have time to ask Song Zhengyang's purpose, so Song Zhengyang directly grabbed the stick, aimed it at him, and pulled it directly.

To a certain extent, it is not the first time they have clashed, those videos and photos in Anyang are all proposed to him, and he is happy to accept and implement them.

As long as these things come out and spread out, there is no way back for Anyang to refuse......

He was very excited, his movements were extraordinarily ruthless, Anyang was not a simple corner, he could form a conditioned reflex when he was beaten, how could he be beaten?

An Yang took two steps back, picked up the same broken stool, and smashed it.

"Smack-" The stool split in half and fell to the ground, Song Zhengyang didn't stop for a moment, didn't give Anyang a chance to buffer at all, and smashed it on his head again.

An Yang bent down and swept Song Zhengyang's lower plate, and the stick that should have fallen on his head was moved away because of Song Zhengyang's fall.

An Yang wanted to lock Song Zhengyang's throat, but Song Zhengyang was not slow to react, rolled to the side, and in the dust all over his body, he grabbed a handful of ashes, scattered them in An Yang's eyes, and took advantage of him to dodge, and slammed his legs hard.

"Whew-" The stick cut through the air and hit An Yang's leg, the pain spread, he stumbled and almost fell, but fortunately he held on to a platform next to him.

The table was a stove, very old, built with adobe bricks, and it was in disrepair for a long time, and he just wanted to turn over from the prop up, but the stove suddenly collapsed.

There was a puff of dust that dispersed, and it was impossible to see where the people were.

Song Zhengyang waved the stick and didn't hit anyone.

His feet were pulled by someone, and his heart was not good, so he was pulled down fiercely, fell heavily to the ground, and threw the knife in the courtyard outside.

He rushed out with his legs, and before he could pounce and grab the knife, he was pulled by An Yang, and he also pounced, his chin hit the stone, his lips were broken, and blood gushed out, and his face was still gray, and he was extremely embarrassed.

An Yang immediately scuffled with him, sat on top of him, sweat mixed with ash flowed into his eyes, his eyes were scarlet, and he didn't care about that, so he rolled around.

"Delete the photos and those things!" An Yang gasped, his eyes were fierce, and he was locking Song Zhengyang's neck.

Song Zhengyang laughed a little gloomy and mocked: "What are you afraid of?" You know you're a bed bug in the gutter, right? ”

"You're also afraid that Bai Nuan will know your disgusting appearance, right?"

"Are you worthy? Are you worthy of her? ”

An Yang's eyes became fierce, faintly, with a bit of abnormal morbid mania, and the hand that locked his neck became more and more forceful: "She is my ......"

"You really think you're a ...... Sunshine boys? Song Zhengyang didn't have much anger anymore, his face was already red, but he was still stimulating Anyang, and his eyes were full of ridicule, "She has a bright future, what are you?" ”

"But...... He's a scum like me! With these words, he strained his waist and abdomen, and with a twist, he knocked An Yang's arm to the stone next to him, and broke a large piece of flesh and skin.