As the knife was about to strike the boy, the tightly protected girl's pupils suddenly contracted, she stared at the knife, shaking her head incessantly, unable to shout out.
Ling Zhiyu also noticed the situation here. Seeing the knife about to strike the boy's head, Ling Zhiyu frowned, tossed the poison in her hand onto the black-clad attacker in front of her, and then leaped towards the boy.
Just as she was about to touch the knife, suddenly, a sharp pain came from her waist. Ling Zhiyu instinctively pulled back her hand and body, narrowly avoiding the blade.
"No!"
"Clang—"
The girl finally shouted, her piercing and sharp voice echoed through the restaurant along with the sound of metal hitting the floor.
Just after she shouted, she froze.
The boy, who was awaiting death but had not yet met it, also paused, bewildered, and hesitantly lifted his head.
Only to see the black-clad attackers surrounding them, warily looking around, "Who's there? Come out."
"Come out!"
