The wine glass fell to the ground, and the bright red wine flowed across the stage like blood.
In the oppressive hall, the one who claimed to be the Dawn Butcher gripped a sharp knife and walked toward the woman wearing the God of Death mask.
The fragile God of Death and the Butcher of Dawn, this eerie scene exuded a different kind of beauty.
The God of Death sought to insert the syringe into the neck of an innocent, while the Butcher stood in front of the innocent, intending to snatch the person from the God of Death's hands.
The dim lights flickered for a moment, and in the instant that the lights dimmed, Han Fei, with knife in hand, rushed forward at great speed; the audience below could only see something flash by.
"Bang!"
The clash of blades emitted a crisp sound, and a trace of surprise flitted through Han Fei's eyes; he was well aware of the danger posed by his opponent, so he had not held back.
