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... ay? I do not understand you?” The old man asked in confusion.

“Let me remind you again. The man who made an attempt on my life had a scar on his face.”

“Did you kill him?” The old man was shocked and furious.

“Yes, he died in my hands,” Xiao Ran readily admitted.

“You, you… have you ever thought of the consequences of destroying our Sky Devil Sect’s plan?” the old man shouted.

He whipped out a long sword. It looked threatening yet refined, and the brillian ...

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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.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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