He took a look, shook his head, and moved the blade away. The injury there was too severe, and there was no point in cutting it again.
His eyes moved to Daemon's left shoulder. The leather armor in that area was still intact, the muscles were still intact, there were no holes pierced by spears on the skin, and there were no traces of frostbite from Ice.
The knife fell.
There was no hesitation, no hesitation, no entanglement of "should I save his life?"
Redd's knife skills are clean and precise, not like using an unfamiliar bone knife to chop a living person's arm, but more like using a scalpel that has been used for many years to dissect a corpse that has been dead for a long time.
The blade entered from the root of Daemon's left shoulder, followed the gap between the scapula and humerus, made a perfect incision at the connection between the joint capsule and ligament, and removed the entire left arm from the shoulder.
"Pfft--"
Dark red blood spurted out from the broken arm, as if someone had turned on a high-pressure faucet.
The temperature of the blood was still very high, and when it came into contact with the cold morning wind, a layer of white water mist emerged, which sprinkled on the beach and formed a dark red puddle that spread quickly.
The severed arm fell on the sand, still maintaining the same posture as when holding the spear shaft - the fingers were spread out, the palm was facing up, and the knuckles were slightly bent.
It twitched on the sand a few times, opening and closing its fingers as if it was grabbing something, and then stopped moving.
Daemon's body twitched violently.
It's not waking up, not struggling, but a reaction of the nervous system, not controlled by consciousness, and purely physical.
The moment his body lost his entire left arm, his blood pressure plummeted, his heart rate soared, and adrenaline and cortisol surged into his blood vessels at the same time, pulling him back from the edge of fainting.
His eyes opened suddenly, his pupils were extremely dilated, and the whites of his eyes were covered with bloodshot eyes. His whole figure was like a person who was suddenly pulled out of the deep water, gasping for air, and his chest heaved violently.
Then he saw his left arm. Or to be more precise, he saw his left shoulder - the empty spot where blood was spurting out profusely.
His left arm was gone, leaving only a severed section with white bone stubble and dark red muscle fibers still gushing out.
His brain completely shut down at this moment. It was not a fainting - his body had secreted enough adrenaline to prevent him from losing consciousness again in a short period of time.
It is a deeper and more essential cognitive collapse - his brain cannot process the information "My left arm is gone", not because the information is too complex, but because the information is too simple, so simple that his brain refuses to accept it.
Daemon opened his mouth and let out a scream that he had never uttered before and that was unfamiliar even to him.
The sound was sharp and harsh, with an almost infantile helplessness and fear. It spread from the beach to the ruins in the distance, to the ears of Lys civilians hiding behind the city wall, and to the pollution belt on the sea that was dyed purple-black by Dragon Blood.
Redd's second knife fell while he was screaming.
This time it's the right shoulder. Daemon's right shoulder has been penetrated by Ice Spear, and the muscles and bones have been severely damaged. It is easier to cut open than the left shoulder.
The blade walked around the existing wounds, peeling off the torn, frostbitten, and necrotic tissues from the healthy muscles, and then removed the entire right arm from the shoulder.
The severed arm fell on the beach, lying side by side with the left arm. Its posture was different from that of the left arm - the fingers were clenched, as if it was still holding the Ice Spear that no longer existed.
Daemon's scream turned into an inarticulate roar as if someone was grabbing his throat the moment the second knife fell.
His body rolled violently on the beach, his legs kicked as hard as he could, and his whole figure looked like a fish thrown ashore making its final struggle.
The sand and blood mixed together to form a dark red mud under his body, covering his entire body.
His face was completely unrecognizable from its original appearance - it was a face that was distorted by pain, fear, anger and despair. His facial features were misaligned, his muscles were spasmed, and his veins were bulging. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was saliva mixed with bloodshot eyes hanging from the corners of his mouth. The whole person looked like an evil ghost crawling out of hell and being burned by fire.
His mouth was shouting something.
Not words, not sentences, but a series of vague, broken syllables without any logic or meaning, mixed with curses, begging for mercy, threats, wailing - all the sounds that humans can make when they completely collapse, all mixed together, pouring out of his throat, like a pot of boiling, overflowing, unstoppable water.
Redd squatted down and wiped the blood on Daemon's clothes clean from the bone knife.
The water-blue light danced on the blade, and became brighter the moment Daemon's blood was wiped away, as if he was tasting something delicious, and he still had more to say.
"Still scolding?" Redd's voice was as calm as if he was asking "How is the weather today?" He looked at Daemon's twisted mouth that was constantly opening and closing, and the corners of his mouth raised slightly, "It's time for you to repair your mouth."
He didn't wait for Daemon to answer - Daemon couldn't answer either. His mouth was now full of unclear and broken syllables, none of which were complete human words.
Redd turned the bone knife over, with the tip facing downwards, and aimed it at Daemon's open mouth.
The knife skills of Redd have always been accurate. The blade penetrated between Daemon's upper and lower lips, followed the gap between the gums and teeth, and accurately peeled off the tongue and teeth that had been soaked in blood and saliva, were trembling in Daemon's mouth, and were constantly swearing and wailing, from their original positions.
Several teeth flew out of Daemon's mouth and landed on the beach, stained with blood and minced meat, glowing with a faint, pearl-like luster in the sun.
A small piece of tongue - about an inch long - also fell down and fell on the sand, still squirming slightly, as if it was making a final, futile struggle.
Daemon's mouth was cut open from the inside. From the corner of the mouth to the corner of the mouth, from gum to gum, the entire mouth turned into a bloody and unclosable crack.
His curses, wails, and roars all turned into a vague, gurgling sound at this moment, like water rolling in his throat - without a tongue, he could not pronounce any clear syllables; with his torn lips, he could not control the direction of the airflow.