The cold lancet tip was pressed against the man's violently beating carotid artery, and it only took half a millimeter to cause him to splatter blood on the spot. The man's iron claws were firmly embedded in her throat, and his finger bones were turning a cold blue-white color from the extreme exertion. The strong smell of blood filled the cramped and bumpy carriage carriage.
This was the desperate situation Chu Qingci faced the first second after she regained consciousness.
There are no system prompts, no memory fusion buffer, only the ultimate lack of oxygen and the suffocation feeling on the verge of death. One moment, she was performing a twelve-hour separation operation on conjoined twins in a modern sterile operating room; at this moment, she was lying on the body of an ancient man who was seriously injured, had weak vital signs, but exuded terrifying murderous intent.
The wheels of the carriage ran over a huge piece of gravel, and the carriage was thrown upwards.
