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Ning Que looked at him silently, without any sign of fear.
After a long time, the Butcher put the knife back onto the chopping board. But his hand never left the handle. He said, "I do not care about you killing others, but I care about eternity. You and anyone from the Academy shall not enter the West-Hill again. Or I will have shed blood."
Ning Que said, "I have already come in here, how are you going to kill me?"
The Butcher did not reply. However, his grip on the knife in his hand tightened. The knife in his hand was the answer. The knife was as heavy as a mountain, as sharp as the wind. It was the most horrifying knife ever since the dawn of human history.
It was as though the cyan-steel sword that Ke Haoran had once wielded.
Que Ning's expression became graver. His right hand did not reach for the iron cutlass he carried on his back. Though his iron cutlass was very strong, there was too huge a gap between his cutlass and the knife on the Butcher'@@