"Do you know where my sheep are?"
The old shepherd looked up, giggling with a he-he.
His narrow eyes crinkled into a slit, revealing a set of pitch-black rotten teeth.
As he finished speaking,
the flock of sheep suddenly let out incessant "baa baa baa" noises.
The first dozen, facing Pockmarked Face, bleated urgently,
but couldn't break free.
In those pairs of pitch-black, panicky sheep eyes, a spark of terror and urgency flickered.
Pockmarked Face's broad nose twitched, and he unexpectedly smelled the scent of his subordinates among these sheep.
His face momentarily changed color as he thought of something.
Suddenly, his eyes went wild with shock and rage, he bellowed:
"What kind of demons and ghosts are you?"
"Turning all my subordinates into sheep."
"Watch as I slaughter you!"
Pockmarked Face, enraged, raised his hand, and a giant palm formed of True Qi violently struck towards the old shepherd.
The air whistled sharply.
Coming abruptly.
