"Hoho..." Jiang Meili struggled to get up, but her throat sounded like it was leaking air, making a strange noise.
"You two dying so swiftly is actually lucky. Wang Yunyun is not so fortunate; she will live, but her existence will be worse than death, a thousand times more painful than what Jiang Zhuanzhuan endured."
"Ugh... Ahhh..." Jiang Meili's pupils had completely turned blood-red, she struggled to get up but the blood in her neck became more and more abundant, until finally, she died with her eyes wide open.
As for Wang Dalì, he had long since breathed his last.
Feng Sha sheathed his knife, disdainfully pursed his lips, lit a lighter, and without looking back, ignited the quilt and left.
Due to the dry winter air and the use of clay stoves in every rural household, piles of firewood or straw are always nearby. Assisted by the northwestern wind, the house was soon engulfed in flames.
