Chiang Xiao hadn't taken a close look when she smashed earlier, but now she could see clearly.
On Chiang Baohe's right ankle was a wound the size of a small bowl, the flesh mangled and one spot so deep the bone was visible, blood gushing forth relentlessly.
She too couldn't help but sharply inhale a breath of cold air.
At the moment, she had truly been fierce and hadn't realized she had hit him so severely, nor had she noticed that the rock had one extremely sharp edge.
But she didn't feel regret, sparing his life was already a mercy on her part. After all, had it not been for her good luck, she would have been beaten to death or crippled by him with that carrying pole a few days earlier.
Keeping Chiang Baohe around was to place her own family in danger, and Chiang Xiao would not be so benevolent.
The reason she gasped was merely because she was startled by such a wound. After that, not even Chiang Xiao's complexion changed.
Her heart was as hard as stone at that moment.
