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... icated more. Most of the time, they talked about what gifts to buy for their wife. One person’s plan was short, two people’s plans were long, and the gifts that the other party had bought in the past were used as a reference.


They would greet each other every time they met. After all, it was a friendship formed during the Revolution.


In the blink of an eye, two days had passed. On the third day, it was Valentine’s Day in the West.


Originally, Yuan Zhou didn’t ...

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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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