"Do you know how many slices human flesh can be cut into?"
"The answer is indefinite, as it depends on the chef's knife skills."
Qin Yu held up the sword and compared it against the body of the screaming Dhadak, much like an art student analyzing the spatial structure of a still life drawing.
"I can slice you into 9,981 pieces."
99 yields 81, even enough to ascend to the heavens and achieve immortality through pilgrimage.
With a ferocious expression, Dhadak displayed remarkable loyalty, "I'd rather die—"
Jiaojiao suddenly sprang up, pinching her nose as she opened a bag and stuffed a pair of socks into his mouth.
With all four limbs disabled, even biting his tongue to commit suicide was not an option.
The socks belonged to Max and were still damp—the kind soaked with sweat from the soles of the feet.
Dhadak nearly fainted and nearly retched, but then he realized retching would cause him to swallow the sweat from the smelly socks.
Gag—
