Hu Xiaotian chuckled. "You old bald donkey, you can't even save your own life, and you still dare to talk big? Isn't there a dull ache in the left side of your chest? Press your fingers between your fifth and sixth ribs. Doesn't that sting a little?"
Wuxing suspected the brat was deliberately bluffing him, but he pressed down as instructed anyway. Never mind him-anyone would have felt pain pressing there. Wuxing sucked in a sharp breath.
"Doesn't your chest feel a little heavy too, as if a stone were weighing on it? Your heartbeat has sped up, and your lips feel a little dry."
Wuxing was suspicious by nature, but the more suspicious someone was, the more easily they fell into the trap of psychological suggestion. He glared viciously at Hu Xiaotian, yet inwardly he was terrified. Could this brat really have poisoned the dagger? What Hu Xiaotian described were simply the symptoms a normal person experienced after losing blood. Wuxing's left leg was bleeding nonstop, so he was bound to develop those symptoms. Hu Xiaotian used this to wage psychological warfare, feeding him one suggestion after another. His real aim was to buy time. The longer he stalled, the more pronounced Wuxing's blood loss would become, and the more his strength would decline. That would only work in Hu Xiaotian's favor.
Hu Xiaotian said, "Get down on your knees, knock your head against the ground three times, and call me Grandpa three times. Then perhaps I'll spare your life."
Wuxing roared, "You little bastard! Even if it costs me my life, I'll take your worthless hide!"
Hu Xiaotian laughed. "You old bald donkey really don't know when you're courting death. Your grandpa's standing right here. Come catch me if you've got the guts!"
Wuxing planted his crutch against