The bandits: "..."
They had thought Shen Tang was joking. But after seeing with their own eyes the warm corpse, headless yet still gushing blood, even the most stubborn troublemaker didn't dare make a sound. They had only one life, and nobody dared gamble on that sliver of a chance.
A stink quietly spread through the room.
Everyone followed the smell to its source.
The bandit who'd been splattered with hot blood was standing there, his legs trembling as he pissed himself. His bedding was soaked through. He wasn't the only one who'd lost control. Two other bandits who'd already gotten up had been so terrified that their nerves gave way, and they emptied their bladders too.
The gorgeous young man lazily looked away.
She coldly spat out a sentence: "Five breaths left."
Those four words seemed to restart time for the bandits. Their faces filled with terror, as if a hungry demon were chasing them, its gaping maw right behind them. They frantically shook their companions by the shoulders, arms, and legs. When that didn't work, they slapped them.
Shen Tang: "Four breaths."
"Three breaths."
As she continued the countdown, the bandits were so frightened that they'd completely forgotten how to think—or even what thinking was. They dragged and hauled at their companions, doing whatever it took to wake them. Only one thought remained in their minds: if even one person was still lying down, they would all die!
King Yama's countdown continued.
"Two breaths!"
At this point, one bandit still stubbornly clung to the ground. He just didn't believe Shen Tang would really kill them all! If she failed to "do what she said" even once, then her authority could be challenged head-on!
Would Shen Tang really dare kill an entire roomful of bandits?
If she did, the