"Every time Your Highness coughs up blood, you are poisoning my internal organs." Helianzhuo's scimitar was still dripping with the blood of the Imperial Army, but the tip of the blade ambiguously scratched Xiao Xuejin's Adam's apple. "Why don't we make a bet, which one of you will open to the ninth valve first, or will my intestines rot into blood first?"
Intention: When the world nails you on the altar, do you dare to use love and blood to make yourself a knife that cuts off chains?