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... that of Little Wild Grass, squinting as he spoke: "I know why Zhi Wei accepted you as her disciple. You’re exactly the same as her when she was young."

The girl beamed sweetly and replied, "Thank you for the compliment, Grandmaster."

Being praised for her resemblance to her master made her immensely happy.

Li Muyang, however, continued to scrutinize her, squinting slightly: "Even that insufferable beaten-up expression—it’s identical."

Li Muyang’s comment made the ...

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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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