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Flaying the skin, gouging the flesh, extracting the tendons, pulling out strands of hair along with the scalp, Sha Meihui soon couldn't scream anymore. She died in agony, a spectacle akin to hell that deeply shocked Wen Chongxian, leaving him in a mental stupor.
The sound of "huhuhu" laughter echoed in his ears, fierce and gleeful, emanating from Wang Zhongli's shattered mouth.
"Snap!"
Fragments of a floating mirror crashed to the ground, splashing debris near Wen Chongxian. It resembled searing hot branding irons, making him panic-stricken.
Fourteen years earlier, the humiliation he suffered in the school restroom was fully unleashed at this moment. Wang Zhongli paid Sha Meihui back in full, with interest.
Through the screen fragments, Wen Chongxian, cowering in the corner, dared not even breathe. He saw a ghostly hand lift Sha Meihui's head, her twisted body in a blue skirt stepping away unsteadily on high heels, one limp at a time.