Feng Fuce stepped back half a step, but the sharp object in the boy's hand still left a short, shallow blood mark on his chin.
Beside him, Chu Ping and the Xiu Luo Envoy rushed forward, holding the boy down tightly.
The sharp object in his hand fell to the ground.
It turned out to be a piece of sharpened stone.
The boy struggled and roared, "You are the Brocade Armor Shura Guard, just like those bandits, you're all bad people!"
Chu Ping angrily rebuked, "How ungrateful you are! Without us, you'd already be dead!"
He turned to look at Feng Fuce, "Marquis, are you alright?"
The boy almost roared, "I don't need your help! The Xiuluo Guard are infamous for their atrocities, everyone knows that!"
Feng Fuce raised his hand with cold eyes, casually using his thumb to wipe his chin.
His face was already pale as jade, and with a touch of sudden blood, the darkness in his eyes seemed even more like thick ink.
Feng Fuce slowly walked forward, reached out, and grabbed the boy's neck.
