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... ectly acceptable to him.

Feng Yu did not care. If Cameron directly agreed, he would still wonder if there would be any problems in it.

In the evening, Feng Yu lived in a manor on the outskirts of London, next to the estate of Kirilenko.

He lived in less than half an hour, a cheetah came in, a man in a long trench coat, with sunglasses, and a scarf around his hair and face came down from the car.

Entering the castle, the shawl and sunglasses are taken off to reveal a d ...

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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.

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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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