By the time Yang He finished brandishing his dagger, sweating profusely as he walked over to his desk, he intended to stab down onto the characters he had just written, wishing to show he was not scared. However, he was startled by a large "Zhao" character.
Clang, the dagger slipped out of Yang He's grip and fell, the handle hitting his foot. Fortunately, it wasn't the blade that struck his foot, or he would have been injured.
Yang He was taken aback, no longer caring about the pain in his foot, his gaze fixed in shock on the characters on the desk surface. These were not written by him, and even if they were, they would not look like this. It was his ink and his brush, but not his handwriting.
At this point, Yang He became terrified and trembled.
"Don't mess with the Xia family, don't provoke anyone surnamed Xia."
"Zhao," violence, an omen of violence.
