When Beiqing shrank his neck and continued to kneel on the ground with a thoroughly aggrieved face, Feng Yu had already helped Ye Qianming undo that strap and, together with the little bell, placed it on that pile of things beside Ye Qianming.
"Master, it's done."
Ye Qianming shot him a cold sidelong glance, originally wanting to speak, but then remembered that right now he was a young fox, and once he opened his mouth it would be a milky little beast's yip. He immediately clamped his jaws shut, lifted his paw to scratch on the ground, then had Feng Yu come look.
The latter leaned over and saw a few lines written on the ground in strokes like iron hooks and silver strokes: "This matter is forbidden to be spoken of! Any who talk, kill without mercy!"
The last three words behind Ye Qianming's name were written with especially murderous flair.
