On the iron blade, the copper bullet shot from the slingshot was still embedded in the blade. Copper cannot penetrate iron, and the shot from Number 0 missed its mark, still a good inch away from the little henchman's throat. Her aim still needed more practice; had it been him, he could have inflicted heavy damage on the bandits. Yijie stood beside, his eyebrows like sharp blades, dangerously perched and ready to strike at any moment.
The dagger clattered to the ground. With a swoosh, a flush of blood rose in Number 0's face after the rush, her middle and index fingers formed like reversed hooks, stopping right at the slick thyroid cartilage of the little henchman.
The fiercely shouting little henchman still tried to make a sound, emitting a strange gurgling noise. It was a familiar sound, like thick phlegm stuck in the throat, unable to move up or down.
