His feet squashed his blistered palms, and blood splattered everywhere.
The sound of bones breaking came from under song Qing's feet. The palm struggled with all its might, but it couldn't escape her grip. In the end, it became quiet like a dead worm.
Song qingxiao held the ice sword in one hand and wiped the water on her wrist with the other hand. She looked calm as if nothing had happened.
There was a blue-purple mark on her wrist, but she did not scream or groan in pain.
A glimmer of light appeared in the women's eyes. The woman holding the cat no longer needed her to admonish her. She took the initiative to hide the cat again, picked up the rice bucket from yesterday, and went out.
This time, she had brought back more food than yesterday. The soup inside was almost overflowing, making it difficult for her to carry it.
When the youngest girl saw that she had returned safely, she hurriedly got up to get a bowl.
