The sharp tip of the knife was pointed at Fujiwara's throat. The sharp cold light forced Fujiwara to subconsciously narrow his eyes. However, there was no fear on his cold face. He was still as calm as ever.
When he looked up, he saw that Dongfang Liuyun was holding the sharp knife against his throat. She was looking at him coldly.
Fujiwara's face fell into silence, and he looked at Dongfang Liuyun. "If you can do it, then do it. With one strike, not only can you avenge Lan Qi, you can also end everything between us."
"I'm not interested in being buried with you, and you don't have to provoke me. Let go!"
Dongfang Liuyun tilted her wrist, and the tip of the knife in her hand was close to Fujiwara's throat. The sharp knife had already left a red mark on Fujiwara's neck, and a bright red spread along the tip of the knife.
Not only did Fujiwara not let go, he even tightened his grip—
"You're not my match, Liuyun."
