The stench of blood filled his nostrils, making it hard to discern between illusion and reality, as though a massive stone weighed upon his heart. In just ten seconds under the demon blade's suppression, he was drenched in sweat, gasping for air like an asthmatic.
He had no doubt that if Li Zheng were to use this blade to kill him, it would be as easy as killing a chicken.
"Mr. Li, I know I was wrong. Everything I heard tonight will stay buried in my stomach. Please, spare me." Louis begged, his voice as desperate as a drowning man, his hands clutching his own throat, seemingly ready to snap it at any moment.
"Don't worry, you won't die. At most, you'll feel a little discomfort."
Li Zheng signaled to Thirsty Blood: "Let him go for now."
'Alright!'
The Demon Blade Thirsty Blood immediately retracted its aura, reverting to an unremarkable Blood Patterned Black Knife.
