"Sand of Time—tsk, you didn't use too much, did you?"
Bobo looked at Michael, who seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, and couldn't help baring his teeth. Naturally, he was happy that Deathstroke had emerged unscathed, but if they had accidentally killed Michael and offended Lucifer, that would hardly be worth it. They might as well have knocked him unconscious with a Frying Pan.
The Sand of Time could do more than put people to sleep. If used in excessive amounts, or if Dream personally activated it through special methods, it could send someone straight to death.
Dream called that "entering a peaceful and serene eternal Long Sleep." In ordinary human terms, it meant dying.
Lucifer and Michael's relationship was extremely complicated. If they merely beat the latter senseless, the former Satan would only laugh uproariously. But if they killed the archangel, the Fallen Angel would definitely fly into a rage on the spot.
If Lucifer, who had escaped Hell to live a slacker's life in the human world, went mad, there were very few people capable of restraining him. Bobo was not sure whether Deathstroke had a plan for that.
Faced with Bobo's worried little eyes, Su Ming immediately saw through his thoughts, but merely handed the secretary another bottle of chilled beer.
A plan for dealing with Lucifer? Of course there was one. Otherwise, how could he have dared make so many deals with that lunatic? It simply was not time to use the backup plan yet.
"Don't worry. Michael isn't dead. I knew exactly how hard to hit him." Su Ming clapped his hands, signaling everyone to focus. "Now we can leave. We've got the dog, and we need some time to study the intelligence. Gabriel, take Michael to Lucifer. He should be able to cure this