"Three more, huh."
He started laughing.
Three more of such prey.
.
.
Ten minutes later, the entire club returned to dead silence.
Only the faint sound of sobbing echoed, spreading. Ling Zan futilely crawled on the ground, little by little, dragging his bisected body outward.
In the spreading pool of blood, a piercing crack appeared in the throat of the body turned golden iron, falling backward with face up.
Feng Mo panted heavily, struggled desperately, wailed, but couldn't break free from the arm strangling his throat.
Behind him, the silent boy stayed speechless, only holding him down relentlessly, then, the sword blade swept across, severing his head.
With a thud, blood sprayed.
The boy, now completely dyed red with blood, lifted his head and looked at Ling Zan, who had crawled to the door. Ling Zan convulsed in terror, wailing, "Spare me, spare me... I can negotiate too, I... I can work for Mr. Ji too, I... I..."
