"Don't kill me, don't kill me!"
Xuan Yuanyi struggled and shouted.
The middle-aged man didn't waste words but directly stepped on Xuan Yuanyi's back, then crouched down and grabbed Xuan Yuanyi's right arm.
Xuan Yuanyi seemed to sense what was about to happen and shouted, "No! Don't cut off my hand, please, don't! I'll give you money, as much as you want!"
"You're questioning my professional ethics."
The middle-aged man said the only sentence he spoke since his appearance.
"Who, who wants my arm! Who!! Tell me, I swear I won't tell anyone, big brother, please, don't touch my hand, don't!"
Xuan Yuanyi struggled desperately but found he couldn't move at all, being pinned down.
The middle-aged man's movements were swift and powerful; with one hand gripping Xuan Yuanyi's arm, squeezing it until Xuan Yuanyi's hand couldn't move at all.
With one hand holding the mountain-opening knife, the middle-aged man muttered, "You can only blame your bad luck."
Then the knife rose and fell.
