Zhang Zhen suddenly let out a shout, raised his flying knife, and stabbed at Wang Yu's back.
Shen Jun and the ninety-two in charge seated in the elegant booths were terribly alarmed, but it was already too late to stop Zhang Zhen at this point, and even Wu Tianming, who stood at the edge of the dance floor with two others, was more willing than able.
Just as the flying knife was about to pierce Wang Yu's body, several cold stars suddenly appeared in the hall, fleeting in an instant. Simultaneously, Wang Yu leaped up, and with a turn, a spinning kick landed heavily on Zhang Zhen's forehead.
Zhang Zhen was sent flying, his body slamming into the railing at the edge of the dance floor, then tumbling backward to the ground, where he struggled a few times before lying still, a large pool of fresh blood quickly forming beneath him.
