It was dark in the private room. All of the lights were concentrated on Li Nanheng's position.
Feng Ling stood in the darkness.
No one was aware that, in that instant, one of their comrades had died in Feng Ling's hands.
The short man did not even have the opportunity to scream; his throat had already been slit open. He widened his eyes and tried to scream for help, but it was impossible for him to make a sound. He stared at her for ten full seconds. Due to the numb, painful sensation in his back, he did not even have the strength to tug at his nearby comrade. Silently, he stopped breathing and collapsed.
