What flowed out was not blood, but a blue-white smoke.
His face was pale as he hurriedly snapped off a finger from his left hand and attached it to the severed finger on his right hand, then reattached the severed right finger to his left hand, muttering:
"What kind of fate is this? So terrifying... No matter when this person enters, it's always a bad time... But it shouldn't be... He clearly has an immense fortune, almost to the extent of extreme luck. Logically, no matter when he enters, it should be an auspicious time."
Yan Hui found it rather strange in his heart. After pacing back and forth a few rounds, he gritted his teeth and began a second round of calculation.
His face turned pale, lips colorless, and his entire being quickly dwindled, except for the pair of lively lying silkworm eyebrows.
This time, he felt a certain sternness.
Next, all six fingers of his right hand, along with the one he had just reattached, were cleanly severed.
