No one would care, Ye Qingtang, whether she lived or died.,He was a handsome, breathtaking man, his white clothes fluttering in the wind. He stood motionless by Ye Qingtang's body, gazing at the gaping hole that had been ripped open, the faint breath slowly dissipating from the wound.,The next second, the man's finger suddenly tapped on Ye Qingtang's brow. A golden ray quietly melted into Ye Qingtang's brow...。