At this moment, the scalpel's blade was already dulled.
He picked up a machete from the pool of blood and instantly plunged it into the desperado's abdomen; but in the blink of an eye, two more blades slashed at him, thud, one splitting his outer thigh, the other his arm.
The pistol was out of bullets.
Yet there were still four or five desperados in front of him, and two glints of knives had already arrived!
In this critical moment, he took a deep breath in his chest, sucked in his abdomen, freeing some space from the belt, and forcefully pulled out the fire axe with his right hand, gripping the upper third firmly in front of him, blocking the two machetes chopping toward his face.
Gu Ji's arm muscles trembled slightly, the blood in his veins roiled like molten iron, surging into his head repeatedly, his temples thumping, and the blood pressure monitor cuff on his wrist tightened.
"Ah—!"
He roared with full force, pushing the knives away.
