The soft sword's death by a thousand cuts was a more terrifying torture than a sudden death and finally the two assassins dropped their swords and fell to their knees, begging: "Don't kill me — don't kill me…"
"Cha."
The extraordinary long sword slice across their sinful throats, splashing their blood into the rain.
"I was waiting for those words."
Feng Zhiwei replied calmly, sheathing her sword around her waist.
They passed the bodies and ate some of the roast meat, resting. Ning Yi kept time, and after a while he said: "They should have reached the temple by now."
"Do you think they will head down the mountain or come back?" Feng Zhiwei asked.