Alfred lightly tapped the temples of the two white-robed men with his fingertips. Immediately, a continuous series of crisp cracks rang out.
The two white-robed men's bodies began to twist, starting with their feet, then their legs, then their waists, and finally their chests, while their heads remained fixed in place.
There were no screams at all, only a succession of crisp cracks. They sounded pleasant, with the same satisfaction as cracking one's knuckles-very stress-relieving.
They also resembled skewers of meat and cartilage on a grill, sizzling with fat under the heat of the charcoal.
Thud!
Two twisted bundles fell to the ground, ending the heavenly broadcast.
Alfred looked at Xili and said, "The young master came home and wanted a late-night snack, but you weren't there. As a maid, you neglected your duties."
"Yes, Mr. Alfred. Please, Alfred, my family is still upstairs, on the sixth floor. They're on the sixth floor!"
Xili wasn't remotely shocked by the power Alfred had just displayed. In her heart, she even felt it was only natural.
If the Funeral Society was Hell, then she was Hell's maid, because she had already seen dead people walk past her like living people more than once. They could even... eat the food she made herself.
Alfred raised his head and looked toward the upper floors of the gray-white building.
To be honest, he didn't really want to save anyone else, even if they were his maid's family.
His humility and caution had always been reserved for his young master and the people around him, because the atmosphere those people created could give his young master a more comfortable environment.
Whatever the case, when Kallen first met Alfred, Alfred had been a presence that put him under tremendous pressure-not merely in terms of strength, but in