Honestly, Qin Jun felt that idioms could be down-to-earth, but they shouldn't be down to the underworld.
Fuck you.
Pulling out a hand bone and calling it "a helping hand"—wasn't that a little too hellish?
No?
Qin Jun really wanted to ask which crematorium had handled Grandpa Shan Qing's body.
Could they give him the name so he could avoid it? This was really showing off their skills! A downright unscrupulous business! They must've taken kickbacks from the underworld! Otherwise, how could they do something like this?
But Qin Jun soon felt a little relieved.
At least Black Silk Hero had pulled out a hand bone, not a fresh human hand.
—If it had been the latter, even he would have felt the need to avoid the sharp edge for now. After all, he was just a punk; he didn't mess with people who killed.
Different circles. Better not force his way in.
And although this was already the second time Zhao Nan had encountered Black Silk Hero today, he was no less shocked than Qin Jun.
Wasn't he worthy of being called Black Silk Hero?
Every move he made always made people's vision go dark.
Strictly speaking, though, a hand bone made people's vision go darker than Shining Dick did. Shining Dick glowed, after all. A hand bone wasn't a glowing hand bone.
Zhao Nan was soon a little lost.
If Xiling had a superhero like this maintaining public order, then Zhao Nan felt that the prospects and future promotions of people in his line of work were pitch-black. He could see the end at a glance.
Should he keep doing this job?
He didn't even have any tattoos yet. Maybe... he should turn over a new leaf?
Zhao Nan had actually wanted a tattoo. He thought tattoos were