Liu Yuan trembled as he lowered his head and looked at his chest. The dagger had been stabbed into his chest, revealing only the silver hollow and exquisite handle.
However, no matter how exquisite it was, it could not change the fact that it was a weapon.
Pain, excruciating pain.
"Ugh..."
Liu Yuan's forehead was covered in cold sweat. He reached out to pull the dagger out, but his hand slipped several times. Although Pihuan Luo let go of the dagger, it seemed to be pushed by an invisible force, spinning into his chest until the handle was buried.
The blood cut deeper into his clothes, and his flesh was cut open and then healed.
With a slight hook of her slender hand, the blood on Liu Yuan's chest separated from his clothes and condensed into a wriggling object that seemed to have a life of its own. Then, she clenched her fist and crushed it.