Bloodied ears slid from the side of Tel's head.
But, Tel did not cry out.
It was not fearlessness, nor was it indifference to pain.
It was because the moment Tel, the son of a lord, had just opened his mouth, Little Lisop's dagger had been thrust into his mouth, the cold and sharp blade pressing tightly against the noble's son's tongue, rendering him immobile, especially with the sensation that the tip might pierce deep into his throat at any moment. Even though the pain was severe enough to make his whole body tremble, the noble's son still raised his hands high, not daring to make a sound.
On the other side, Lisop didn't dare to move either.
In fact, after taking one step forward, the lord stopped in his tracks.
The lord watched Little Lisop with an expression that was seemingly crying yet smiling, but also concealed a hint of madness.
He knew that his plan had worked.
After crumbling, Little Lisop had gone mad.
