"ah!!!"

Yan Yilun let out a miserable howl and kicked Deng Yanjiao away.

Deng Yanjiao got up and didn't pounce on him again, but instead quietly watched Yan Yilun from the side.

Yan Yilun's face was already bruised and battered. He covered the gash on his neck with his hand, and the blood seeping from between his fingers gradually turned from red to black. Fine green lines spread outward from the wound on his face, and black bulges ran up his neck and down his body.

The poison takes effect faster than the bleeding.

In less than ten breaths, Yan Yilun stopped moving and stared at Deng Yanjiao with his big eyes.

His face, neck, and other areas not covered by clothing all turned into a black and green color.

It was terrifying.

The genius who used poison ultimately died from it.

Or rather, he died because of his work.

On the road outside the wheat field, everyone stopped after hearing Yan Yilun's scream.

Heng Wenhao spurred his horse forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching the wheat field warily.

A moment later, the wheat field stirred.

Heng Wenhao quickly drew his knife.

At this moment, Deng Yanjiao walked out of the wheat field and then jumped in front of Zhao Cheng.

Deng Yanjiao's face was covered in blood, and she still had a piece of Yan Yilun's flesh in her mouth. She spat out the flesh and gave Zhao Cheng a bright smile.

Everyone was stunned.

Zhao Cheng saw no innocence in that smile, only deep pain.

Zhao Cheng pressed down Heng Wenhao's knife, dismounted, walked to Deng Yanjiao, and affectionately embraced her.

"Yan Jiao, it's all over now."