In fact, tearing Shen Yunmai's head off was no simple matter.
His body possessed unimaginable toughness. Even the explosion of a Nuclear Reactor had failed to reduce it to ash; only strength and sharpness like Jing Jiu's could sever that fine head of his.
Had this scene appeared in a film, it would have been bloody horror.
But between the two of them, it was comedy.
The real distinction between comedy and other kinds of drama lay in the absence of actual death.
Once a death scene appeared, the label of comedy became mere clothing, unable to conceal the desolation of the whole story, however hard it tried. (Please forgive the rhyme here.)
"It's all charred. Why keep it?" Jing Jiu held Shen Yunmai's head in his hand and flew toward the surface of the sea.
Of course Shen Yunmai understood that the rest of his body was no longer of much use, but he still felt reluctant to let it go. He said angrily, "Holding me in your hand like this-what am I, a ball?"
Considering his wretched condition, Jing Jiu did not throw the head away. Instead, he changed his grip and tucked it under his arm.
Shen Yunmai was even less satisfied. "Now I'm a bag! A man's bag!" he shouted.
Jing Jiu looked at the image reflected in the wall of seawater-the head kept bawling away-and grew a little annoyed. He sped up toward the surface.
Seeing that Jing Jiu was ignoring him, Shen Yunmai grew angrier still, opened his mouth, and bit him.
Helpless, Jing Jiu could only cradle him in the crook of his arm, like a pot of flowers.
Perhaps because he had made a similar association, Shen Yunmai was somewhat more satisfied. He grunted twice, closed his eyes, and began to rest.