People drank the strong liquor from their cups, some with calm faces, some with furrowed brows, and some with inexplicable smiles curling at the corners of their mouths.
Only Bad Day—he tilted his head back to finish the last drop of liquor in the jug, then casually tossed the clay jug aside.
The jug struck the ground, emitting a crisp sound of shattering.
"Since you've said so, teacher, you must have prepared as well," said Bad Day, letting out a deep breath.
No sooner had he finished speaking than he reached out and grabbed the dinner knife in front of Cui Que without waiting for Qiao to respond.
After grasping the silver dinner knife, Bad Day merely casually placed it down…
But for him, "putting down" also meant "killing."
As the blade naturally fell, the space in front of Qiao cracked abruptly, as if a mirror had been shattered.
Qiao, as if he had foreseen it, leaned back, and at the same time, the sharp blade at his waist instantly unsheathed!
