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... was trapped in the sofa.

Ye Xi reached out and punched a fist on the back of the sofa in his ear, making a muffled sound.

Nangonghai shook and asked: "What do you want to do?"

Ye Xi’s eyes are cold and cold, but the corners of his mouth are slightly evoked: “What do I want to do? You should think about what you have done wrong.”

Ye Xi’s sentence is a very common routine.

In most cases, this conversation will happen to couples.

For example, a woman accide ...

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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.

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

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