"Hisss!"
The gang leader wielding the cleaver gasped in shock as he felt it being grasped by a hand—bare-handed blade grabbing?
Li Feng smirked coldly and kicked the man in the abdomen. Instantaneously, the cleaver was wrestled from his grip, and he flew up, landing heavily on the stage, sprawled out on all fours.
Li Feng took hold of the cleaver's handle and, with a backhanded sweep, executed a "Sweeping Thousands of Army" move. The blade skimmed over the necks of two men, a droplet of blood dancing on the chilly blade.
The two approaching thugs felt a chill on their necks and immediately got goosebumps; they sat down hard on the ground, frantically clutching their necks, hearts pounding with fear.
That was close.
Damn close. Their heads were nearly relocated.
Those two thugs felt a surge of relief at having narrowly escaped death, and upon raising their eyes to see Li Feng again, holding the cleaver, he looked just like the Death God wielding his scythe.
Terrifying.
