Observing the unfolding chaos, Zhao Ling swiftly descended from the carriage, her movements filled with fluid grace and deadly intent. She delivered a swift kick to the incapacitated man's torso, causing him to convulse in agony. Squatting down beside him, Zhao Ling applied a gentle twist, expertly breaking his hand with a chilling efficiency.
"Aghhh…"
The man's anguished cry pierced through the night, mingling with the sounds of battle, as pain radiated through his shattered limb. The air carried the metallic tang of blood, accompanied by the faint scent of sweat and fear, heightening the intensity of the moment.
As the packet fell from the man's hand, Zhao Ling swiftly retrieved it from the ground, her fingers delicately handling the object. With a measured caution, she opened the packet, revealing its contents. The air became infused with an acrid scent.
