"Crack!" A spine-chilling sound echoed distinctly in the quiet hall. Following the source of the noise... Zhang Zhen saw it, so did Huang Xing, and many others—they all witnessed Huang Xing's wrist, which held half a bottle, brutally broken, the bone tipped with dripping blood, as the person who snapped the wrist twisted the hand left and right as if it were a toy.
"Ah!!!!" Wailing and howling like ghosts and wolves.
Two figures, ghostly as specters, materialized in front of Ye Tian, a flash of lethal white light streaked past, and Ye Tian withdrew his hand.
It was a Triangular bayonet.
"Hit him… hit... kill him… him..." The words grew weaker and weaker until it seemed as though Huang Xing had no breath left, lying on top of Zhang Zhen, one hand supporting the arm with the broken wrist, gradually going limp. Zhang Zhen quickly instructed two of his underlings to take him to the hospital.
