Fresh blood flowed along the dagger, but it was blocked by the hilt so it did not reach Chen Changsheng’s hand. However, for some reason, he still seemed to be able to feel the warmth of the blood. He even felt that his hand was slightly sticky, making it very uncomfortable. Afterwards, when he thought about it, this seemed to be the first time he had killed someone. From Xining Village to the capital, participating in the Ivy Festival, the Grand Examination and then entering the Garden of Zhou, he fought many times, but other than the Demon General couple that died before the mausoleum, no one else had died under his dagger. In that sense, the owner of the inn was the first person he had killed.
The inn owner slowly fell down in front of him, his two round eyes full of unwillingness and despair. The mean look on his face had already long disappeared, and there was only the gaze of death.