The chatroom viewers stared wide-eyed, their minds stuck on a single thought: It's over, it's over, Taylor the Boxing King is doomed!
Tons of Taylor fans overseas were already bawling their eyes out, hands clasped in prayer, mourning their idol.
The audience had already pronounced Taylor dead in their hearts, but before they could spread the word, they blinked—and in that instant saw a flash of silver glint in the air, heard a crisp "splurt" sound, blood spraying like crimson rain, as if witnessing the most heart-stopping assassination ever. That big tiger, with a gust of bloody red droplets, crashed down with a loud bang.
The camera froze on Taylor's bulging, bell-like eyes—his gaze was vacant, his soul floating right to Renee Morgan.
She was still gripping the military-grade knife, dripping blood, her beautiful, delicate face way too calm.
Viewers didn't even have time to check the comments—immediately switched to Renee's side camera, rewinding the livestream.
