Song Zhuyu didn't even hesitate for a second as he rasped, "S–Save… him…" his voice barely rose above a whisper, and he only mouthed the last word as his vocal cord no longer cooperated with him, yet 46 caught it nonetheless.
Song Zhuyu had reached the point where he was desperate enough to plead a grim reaper during his final moments. He used to be such a cocky and cunning bastard, but now, lying in a deep pit of bones with blood covering him from head to toe, he painted a strikingly pitiful and miserable image.