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... radually trained into becoming a black-belly. Seeing that Zhang Hanfang was silent, she couldn't help but laugh, "What? Is Zhang household an empty shelf now and didn't have the money to pay the compensation? If you truly don't have the money to compensate, then, forget it. After all, we are relatives. It's not good to truly ask money from you. At most, I will think of a way to borrow money. Perhaps, this money would be compensated then."


If this was said ...

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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?”

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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.

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

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