In his right hand, he swung a more-than-a-meter-long iron rod, as thick as a bowl.
In his left hand, he was carrying a glass bucket the size of a household water bucket, filled with an oily, sticky liquid, colorless and odorless.
Jiang Ning glanced at a few people and talked to himself: "Let's play a game, choose one of three, whack-a-mole, immersive hair washing, or skewering? Hmm, the last game is exclusively for girls."
Ever since Jiang Ning arrived, the silver blade sliced people in two, and objects appeared out of thin air, filling those present with an unsettling dread.
A tattooed man, who had been fooling around with the woman in a cotton-padded jacket, finally couldn't stand it. He shouted and frantically ran out, cursing his parents for not giving him two more pairs of legs.
Jiang Ning moved his body, and Qiu Die's vision blurred.
