Xiao Yong felt a blast of cold as he rubbed his eyes and woke from his dream. Relying on the sparse moonlight to look, he could not help but be terror-stricken!
The expensive white fox fur blanket that he covered himself with had already been dyed in fresh blood, turning heavy and wet as if he had just retrieved it from a blood pool.
The corpse of Black Eight-fingers and the goateed men were lying to the side, their four dead eyes blankly staring at him.
Xiao Yong was petrified, hurriedly tearing off the blanket as he checked to see if the fresh blood came from them or him.
That was when a cyan short blade extended from behind him, positioned firmly across his neck. Its sharp edge gave him chills as he shuddered from the fear.
"Don't move," Xia Fei coldly remarked. "If you dare shout for help, you'll end up just like them."
