Then, the unusually sturdy head completely detached from the body, rolling far away.
Finally, this heart-stopping slaughter concluded.
Fang Cheng's tense muscles fully relaxed, and he wiped the blood that splattered on his face with his hand.
His fingers touched the warm, sticky liquid, he frowned slightly, then exhaled softly, expelling the remaining killing intent from his chest.
Yet, the bloodthirsty atmosphere pervading the workshop lingered for a long time.
All around was silent, only the moonlight, like water, pouring in through the windows.
Covering the floor strewn with bodies and pools of blood with a layer of silver gauze.
Amidst it all, a faint glimmer flashed indistinctly.
Fang Cheng looked closely, realizing it was the dagger dropped by the commander, so he walked over and bent down to pick it up.
Holding the black sharkskin-wrapped handle, he instantly felt its uniqueness.
