"I..."
No matter how seasoned a veteran of the jianghu he was, once his throat was slashed, his fate was sealed.
Old Monkey stared wide-eyed at Hu Ma, his bony hands feebly trying to stem the flow of blood from his neck, but it gushed through his fingers.
His eyes, one clear and the other cloudy, struggled to focus on Hu Ma as if he wanted to speak. However, with his throat already slit, all he could manage was a gust of air before he slowly crumpled to the ground.
The once-infamous soul-calling beggar, one of the three scourges of Mingzhou Prefecture, died so powerlessly and wretchedly.
No matter how many tricks he had up his sleeve, when confronted by a Shousui man up close, he was no different from livestock awaiting slaughter.
"Ah?"
