Xiao Yehui controlled the prosthetic arm to gradually tighten, leaning forward, his eyes glancing at some direction behind her, "Tell me, is it you who will die tonight or me?"
Li Qiao's gaze stirred slightly.
She held her breath, raised her hand through the inside of Xiao Yehui's elbow, and with a backhand grip pinched his upper left arm, her eyes burning and sharp, "You can't die yet."
With just a few simple words, Xiao Yehui chuckled softly, but the laughter was still lingering at his lips when Li Qiao moved swiftly.
She moved extremely fast, thrusting her shoulder back, her wrist exerting force at the same time. In the blink of an eye, she had broken off the prosthetic arm Xiao Yehui had worn for years from the opposite direction.
The prosthetic arm slipped from his sleeve, the empty sleeve fluttering gently in the night breeze.
