The word beauty was like a trigger. Han Xin's glare shifted with lethal intent towards the shop owner, silence wrapping around them instantly. The shop owner shrank back, words dying on his lips as he retreated into the shadows of his own astonishment.
With a grunt of frustration, Han Zhan released the man, allowing him to sputter free, gasping for air, his face slick with liquid. He sputtered, soup dripping off his chin, the salty scent mingling with the sharp edge of fear that hung palpably in the air.
"Y-you don't need to be so rough," the one-armed man gasped, wiping his face as he sat up, eyes darting between the two men. The adrenaline-riddled encounter hung heavy like an unspoken challenge in the air, as the man, drenched in soup, finally caught sight of the floating image of Xiang Yu again.
