Looking again, he saw the swordsman already holding his arm, lying on the ground, screaming in pain.
Unknowingly, the long knife was mysteriously in Zhao Sheng's hand.
"Ah, this one's tricky, let's all go at once!" The other swordsmen's faces changed drastically upon seeing this. At someone's shout, seven swordsmen blocked the front and back, holding their long knives, slowly closing in on Zhao Sheng.
"Young Master, please don't draw the sword. You've just recovered from a serious illness and can't get hurt again. Why don't we throw some Silver and buy some Peace." Seeing the situation, Chen San was sweating profusely and hurriedly shouted.
Saying this, he immediately tried to snatch the long knife from the Young Master's hand.
No one expected the next second; his vision blurred, and he pounced empty-handed.
