In December in San Paulo, the iron blinds rhythmically hit the windowsill, making a clicking sound that echoed with the sound of the precision clock in the room.
"What an excellent samurai sword! "Moonlight seeped into the room through the blinds, casting a dark shadow that could make a sound, curled up. Of course, it also shone a cold light under the crimson hue. Following the handle of the knife, there was another black shadow. But it was standing tall and straight.
"This is a mother fuckingTang Dao." The standing black figure first lifted his right hand and then pulled away. With a dull sound, the curled up black figure suddenly collapsed to the ground.
Tick, tick.