The segment of throat bone in his hand, upon closer inspection, still radiated light, seemingly a treasure.
Song Yin looked at the throat bone and smiled faintly. With a turn of his hand, the bone fell into his large sleeve. The sleeve appeared to be a bottomless pit; as Song Yin's arm lowered, there was no sign of the bone falling out but rather it seemed to completely vanish within the folds of the fabric.
His figure pivoted, transforming into a white shadow, and he appeared beside Zhang Fei Xuan and Wang Qizheng, looking down at them.
It seemed that, compared to before, the look in his eyes was even more intimidating.
"Junior brothers, are you injured?" Song Yin asked softly.
Zhang Fei Xuan and Wang Qizheng immediately got up, stood straight, yet subconsciously lowered their heads and dared not meet Song Yin's gaze.
"Big Senior Brother... we're fine."
