Wang Anfeng's body trembled slightly, yet the sounds of Buddhist chants and the whistling of swords reached his ears, suppressing his fury. Mr. Ying had instructed him to first understand the situation, then make decisions, and not to act rashly. The words were no longer cold, but they contained a hidden wrath.
He understood, but his anger had not subsided in the slightest.
The image of the noble thieves from the tales, who cried out from the forests, rid the people of evil, robbed the rich to aid the poor, instantly shattered, revealing a stark reality. The new corpse was that of a delicate and charming young girl, with a gentle face, who had died in agony, yet her expression bore a hint of relief and liberation.
The red-hot iron shoes were not feared; they danced wildly.
Danced to death.
