Rhode's voice was as calm as the afternoon breeze, but the men felt an incomparable chill shooting up their spines. Their expressions turned ashen and they sucked in a deep, cold breath in unison. The middle-aged man gulped his saliva as Rhode's razor-sharp blade dangled around his throat and the ice-cold murderous intent felt as though an invisible wild beast pressuring his body. He could even feel its claws pushing on his chest and just a little more force would puncture his chest without resistance.
"Scram," said Rhode once more.
The middle-aged man crawled to his feet and held his throat with lingering fears. He gaped and glared fiercely at Rhode, but no words came out of his frightened self. In the end, he let out a snort and fled with the other men in red and white striped uniform hurriedly.
