"The prosperous era is coming... pfft!" The counterfeit, being tortured, muttered indistinctly.
But before he could finish, Wu Liang lifted his leg and kicked him over with a thud, pinning his arm down, and bent over to grab one of his fingernails.
Suddenly, he yanked the nail out by its root, blood spurted, and the pain that connected to the heart through the ten fingers made the counterfeit almost unable to scream.
"Three seconds, reveal the true identity of this arm and I'll give you a quick end." His tone was cold to the extreme.
He lifted the broken wound in his hand, which had no trace of blood, but instead resembled pixelated remnants of a mosaic severed limb.
Unfortunately, the counterfeit seemed unable to recognize the origin of this arm.
Wu Liang could only shake his head regretfully, saying, "Really sorry, you missed a huge opportunity, and there won't be another."
