Immediately afterward, he raised the bloodstained dagger in his hand again and viciously stabbed at the two already-dead bandits. Once, twice, three times... Every stab brimmed with hatred and fury.
No one knew how long passed before the bandit leader finally stopped moving his hand...
At this moment, his entire body was covered in blood, and it was already impossible to tell whose blood it was.
The two bandits had long since ceased breathing, yet their eyes, round like egg yolks, remained fixed in a furious glare at their leader, as though voicing their inner dissatisfaction and resentment, and the depth of their grudge against him.
It was only natural. They had died with their eyes open, and it was understandable that they harbored resentment. Had they died by Chen Xiaofan's hand, perhaps they would have accepted their fate and felt far less regret or grievance. Yet now, they had perished at the hands of their own brother—or rather, their own brother had plotted against them and taken their lives. They simply could not resign themselves to it or accept such a cruel ending.
Even if their hearts were full of resentment and unwillingness, it was useless now. They were already dead—what was there left to argue over?
In truth, the two bandits had brought this fate upon themselves. They could not blame anyone else. It had everything to do with their own actions, and their leader could not bear all the blame either.
If these two bandits had not broken faith at such a critical moment, betrayed their leader, and shifted every scrap of blame onto him, why would their leader have been driven to kill them?
At such a crucial life-or-death moment, their leader should have been doing everything he could to win the two of them over