Fan Dazhi charged straight ahead, Primordial Energy surging through his body like a tide. Suddenly, the Masked Woman turned her wrist, reversing the bloodstained Ox-Ear Dagger and setting its bone-chilling tip precisely against Linu's slender, fair neck.
The slightest push would easily sever the blood vessels pulsing beneath her skin.
In that instant, Fan Dazhi's explosive strength and courage to fight to the death were shattered.
His swelling aura collapsed like a punctured balloon, replaced by a bone-deep terror that chilled him from head to toe. It was as though the dagger's tip were pressed against his own heart.
"No... don't... please... don't hurt her..."
His legs gave way, and he dropped heavily to his knees with a thud. The pain of his knees striking the hard floor was not even a ten-thousandth of the despair in his heart.
Tears streamed down through the blood smeared over his face, blurring his vision. All he could do was reach helplessly toward the glinting blade with his trembling, blood-drenched hands, his voice choking into sobs. "Let her go... please... let her go... I'll do anything you want... anything at all... just don't hurt her... please..."
In that instant, it was as though all his spirit and vitality had been drained away. He could only grovel in the dust and blood, repeating his powerless pleas, every word steeped in the blood and tears of despair.
"Oh?"
The Black-Robed Youth finally showed a clear reaction. He leaned forward slightly, as though looking down upon an ant, his icy gaze settling on Fan Dazhi's tear-streaked face. There was no pity in that gaze, only the scrutiny of someone appraising merchandise, and calculation as deep as a bottomless abyss.
"Really?"
He spoke slowly, his voice like a cold wind seeping from the depths of a crypt.