"Pfft——"
The moment the cold blade plunged into his neck, Xiao Bianyun could even feel the force on Zhao Chengye's wrist, as steady as chopping a dead piece of wood, without any of the hesitation of the old brothers. The blood foam poured into his throat, it was fishy and salty, making him want to cough, but he could only make a whooshing sound.
