Song Heping was using a very ordinary combat butterfly knife, which he had seized from a Mossad agent and kept on his person ever since.
"Where's your weapon?!"
Omar drew his sword and swung it twice in the air, prompting his lackeys to start howling.
Song Heping's eyes were calm and focused, resembling a leopard stalking its prey from the darkness, as he gently drew his butterfly knife.
The butterfly knife appeared small, akin to a child's toy compared to Omar's luxurious large sword, seemingly harmless.
Omar's lackeys hissed and mocked the butterfly knife with maximum volume.
"Look at that knife! Can it kill?!"
"It's smaller than the knife I use to slice lamb! Hahaha!"
"Just like the China People's physique, small!"
The mockery surged like a tidal wave.
Even old Ahmed grew worried and quietly asked Nura next to him, "Shouldn't you give your friend a better sword? If not, I have a good one here that he can use."
"I asked him, he said he doesn't need it…"
