The right door of the Land Rover swung open, and Lai Er's fat body tumbled out of the car with a thud.
A sharp knife was plunged into his belly; his whole body curled up like a lobster, eyes wide as he fixed his stare on Qin Feng, his throat letting out muffled, guttural grunts.
Just now, He Lengdong slammed the brakes so abruptly, his machete wasn't put down yet, and with a roll, he ended up in the front seat.
The machete stabbed deep into his abdomen, blood splattering all over the cabin.
He'd roamed the Jianghu his whole life, yet never expected to end up dying in such a pathetic way—killed by his own hand.
He Lengdong got out from the left door, walked around to Lai Er, squatted down, gripped the knife handle with his right hand, covered Lai Er's eyes with his left and said coldly, "Lai Er, rest easy. Dongzi'll avenge you and make this bastard pay with his life!"
He said it, then raised the knife and struck.
