Of the five Vietnamese men, Gu'er had wounded one, and Qu Shui had wounded another.
Dingzi had taken down another two, and Li Zhi had dropped one as well. Though Li Zhi was also wounded, it didn't look serious.
One of the Vietnamese men tried to stand up, but Dingzi instantly clamped a hand around his throat. Then, he plunged the dagger in his hand into the man's thigh, muttering a few words as he did.
Gu'er could hear the man gasp in pain. 'They're human, too. Getting injured and bleeding hurts them just the same.'
The Vietnamese man screamed something, but Dingzi just yanked the dagger out. Before the man could even inhale, he stabbed it in again.
With the blade buried in his flesh, Dingzi asked another question.
The Vietnamese man said nothing, his face a pale, twisted mask.
And why wouldn't he look terrible? He'd already been wounded by Dingzi, and now he'd just been stabbed twice more. It would be a miracle if his face looked fine.
