In the white paper man's hand was a long, wide pair of scissors, also made of paper, with a somewhat dull color on the surface,
but whether it was the neatly severed heads of the staff or the speckled blood on the blade, they both testified to the sharpness of these scissors.
Zhou Xuan lowered his hand, and a folded fan slipped from his sleeve, his left hand holding a gavel in his palm.
When the iron lid on the ground opened, he smelled an intensely strong scent of blood; the stench could hardly be this strong unless at least ten people had died.
Thus, Zhou Xuan concluded that a brutal bloodshed had just occurred in the hidden room below the iron lid. He hurriedly grabbed Lv Mingkun and turned to leave the shop, but they were too slow and got blocked by these two black and white paper figures.
