At this mont, his wrists were severed alive, and the two bloody hands fell to the ground, an appalling sight.
"Dare to touch my woman, your hands must be chopped!" Deep in the dim alley, a voice slowly erged.
A cold, bloodthirsty yet elegantly young man’s voice, rich with magnetic allure, like icy cold springs in the tranquil night, chilled to the bone, freezing the heart.
The few thugs were terrified as they followed the direction of the voice.
Under the dark sky filled with shadows, illuminated by the dim and worn-out streetlights, erged a group of silent assassins, swift and silent, shadows that blocked the moonlight, enveloping the world in a dull gray.
Standing in front of that heart-stopping group of assassins was an unbelievably handso and charming man, a whirlwind of black murderous aura swirling around him like a hurricane.
More mature than a youth, yet wilder than a man, in the pri of his life, with the coldest deanor and purest temperant, like night, like fog, like wind, like fire; this man embodied the most extre brilliance a man could possess, from head to toe, breathtakingly perfect, making anyone who looked at him feel ashad, humbling them to the dust!
The thugs stared at this angelic handso yet bloodthirsty demon-like man, instantly feeling as if their throats were squeezed fiercely by a cold iron clamp, an invisible pressure like Mount Tai weighing down, causing their chests to freeze and suffocate, unable to breathe.
They could only stare wide-eyed, filled with fear, watching him step by step approach, their feet unable to move as if nailed to the ground.
"Ah, it’s killing ..." The leader, with his severed hands, raised his bloody stumps, looking at the man, almost fainting upon seeing the man casually playing with two sharp gleaming cross-shaped knives.
He knew it was those two knives, those flying cross-shaped knives that had severed his hands just monts ago.
In extre terror, the leader could no longer hold back and scread, his piercing cry paining the eardrums.
The other thugs were startled by his tearing cries, instantly waking up.
Run quickly, ignoring the leader’s life or death.
Falling to the ground, scrambling forward on hands and knees, while others, faces deathly pale, sprinted madly toward the alley’s exit, as if hell itself was chasing after them.
They were from the underworld, with a sharper sense of dark danger than ordinary people. One look at the man and they knew he was more terrifying than Satan; to escape was likely leading to a fate worse than death.
They guessed correctly, this person was indeed more terrifying than Satan, so how could he allow them to escape?
With an elegant wave of his hand, a simple and casual motion, the black shadows behind him silently raised guns with silencers. The muffled thuds of bullets piercing flesh filled the air, and those few cried out in pain, clutching their legs, rolling on the ground in agony, blood streaming all over the place.
The scene was eerie and terrifying, even more chilling in the silent night.
The cold and upright man silently walked to the unconscious Yiyi on the ground, his proud and dark eyes exuding softness and affection, like the lting of winter snow, blooming flowers everywhere. He reached out to gently cradle the girl in his arms, with a care as if she was the most precious treasure in the world, with such focus and deep affection, nostalgia, and reluctance!
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