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... in the hospital.

   Just a minute ago, Shen Mianmian's father, Shen Jianhua, died of cancer. No one in this world truly loves her anymore.

   Seeing his hands and face covered with frostbite and wearing shabby clothes, a trace of pity flashed in the eyes of the medical staff. Just as they were about to step forward to comfort them, two women suddenly rushed in outside the ward.

   The two of them lied on the bedside and cried and howled for a while, then they aimed at Shen ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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