Chou Huang was so consumed by rage that he unconsciously squeezed the dead seabird in his hand until its flesh was a mangled pulp, completely oblivious to what he was doing. He felt as if the bile rising in his gut was about to scorch his very brain.
His breathing ragged, like a rusted bellows, he forced himself to suppress his fury for a full three minutes before his blood pressure finally began to subside.
He swore to himself: If he said one more word to that lunatic, he was a dog. When dealing with a madman like that, one must never engage in conversation. Once his injuries healed and the statue’s energy was fully replenished, he would simply tear him apart.
Chapter 478