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Blood splattered everywhere.
The smell of rust filled the air.
The ferocity that met their eyes sent an involuntary shiver of terror through their hearts.
-
The little boy had a knife firmly in hand well before.
He was ready the moment the first kick knocked him down, and as another kick came, he braced himself and plunged the knife deep into his assailant's calf.
As Fan Zhizhang screamed in agony, Fan Xun's face remained expressionless, instead forcefully pulling the fruit knife out and swiftly staggering to his feet to stab again, this time into his thigh—
This strike must have hit an artery for blood gushed, splattering onto the little boy's fair cheek, his pitch-black eyes devoid of any light.
Blood slid down his slender wrist, dripping onto the ground and his clothes, blooming into flowers of evil that seemed to rise from despair.