Of course the ones who make these poisons know how terrifying they are; they definitely don't want to end up neither human nor ghost.
Seeing Yang Cheng about to make a move, the few of them turned around and tried to run. He snatched the dagger from Da Shan's hand and rushed forward at once.
The dagger wasn't particularly sharp, but his strength was tremendous—one thrust could run straight through a person's body, blood spraying out like a fountain.
"Run! Hurry, run!"
The crowd scattered in all directions, but their speed was no match for Yang Cheng's killing speed.
In the blink of an eye those underlings all became souls under his blade; only a scar-faced man was left. He was different from the others—rather than running outward, he ran toward the pile of grass where the camel had first been lying.
Yang Cheng came back to his senses and guessed the punk had another escape route, but it was already too late.
