Liam's fingers tightened slowly around Fang Xiu's throat. The young master's body writhed like a fish dragged from water, his arms flailing uselessly against the unyielding grip.
His bulging eyes reflected pure terror, but Liam's own face remained calm — unnervingly calm, as if carved from stone.
The crowd stood frozen, breaths caught, their hearts pounding so loudly it seemed to echo across the cobbled street. Everyone, including even the cultivators hidden among them felt their stomachs sink. No one moved and no one spoke.
All they could think was that same one question: "Is this nameless stranger truly going to kill the City Lord's son in broad daylight?"
Inside, Liam's mind was in turmoil. His thoughts spun like knives, weighing every pro and con.
Killing him means burning bridges, painting myself as an enemy of authority. Every sect, every clan with ties to Blackstone will put their eyes on him. And yet… letting him live means repeating this farce tomorrow.
