So it continued.
The terror continued, the pain persisted.
Zheng Fei had never cared for these things; he only cared for "fun" and "happiness".
But since the old man had asked Yanzi to help, he had to let Yanzi help.
After all, death left no room for happiness.
He strode across the open ground, casually picking up one corpse after another, effortlessly tossing them into the cauldron.
His movements were casual, natural, as if he were cooking, simply adding a few pieces of pork to the pot.
Just throwing bodies was too boring.
So he began throwing them to the left, to the right, with a spin, with a high toss… changing the pattern in various ways, but of course, all would eventually fall into the cauldron.
The cauldron… never seemed to fill up.
Blood-red flames blazed fiercely, and the air was thick with a suffocating smell. It could be charred, fishy, or some other pungent odor, maliciously mingled together.
