Mural

Little Flathead had a piece of glass stuck in his head. It was as if he had put on a headpiece. Blood began to slowly stain his head.

He stood there for a few seconds, staggered a few steps, and then collapsed under the screams of the people around him.

Zhou Ze had read the memoirs of some Japanese war criminals. Some people had written that the headless body would still twitch after the head was chopped off, including the head that had fallen to the ground.

Perhaps the death came too suddenly and too quickly. Not only did the victim not have time to react, but even the victim's body did not seem to have time to react.

It was a mess downstairs.

Zhou Ze placed his hands on the railing and sighed before looking at the old Daoist priest.

The old Daoist priest was in a daze and his face was pale.

"Boss…"

"Sigh, look, a perfectly fine person died from being forcefully fed by you."

"…"