When his stomach was so bloated that it almost exploded, Zhuang Yan stopped and lay on the corpse, panting. He felt so good. He was finally neither hungry nor thirsty. He glanced around and saw that the originally vicious prisoners all looked like
Like a little sheep, he leaned against the wall and looked at him in horror.
Grinning, his mouth was filled with blood and his teeth were stained red. He stared at those guys solemnly. The Chinese people are indeed kind, but when they become cruel, everyone will be afraid.
If you want to kill him, it's early.
He glanced at the prison bully. He was dead a long time ago. There was still a look of extreme horror on his face. His crotch had long been shredded, and he had bitten a big wound on his neck. But strangely, there was no blood.
When it flowed out, he drank it all.
"Come here and help me up."
Hearing Zhuang Yan's weak voice, the two prisoners closest to him trembled and cautiously came over. They stretched out their hands to help Zhuang Yan up, helped him to the chuang bunk, and sat down.
In the prison cell, strength is the most important thing, dignity is damaged like this, and one of them can be eliminated and the prison tyrant can be killed. Who dares to disobey? Anyway, the belief here is that the big fist has the final say.
Leaning there, he solemnly glanced at the guys around him, "Drag the body inside, wipe off the blood, and be obedient, I won't kill anyone, otherwise"
"Yes Yes."
"Boss, we'll do it right now."
These guys have long been scared out of their wits. Who dares not to obey? Drinking all the blood from a person alive is definitely not a human being. He is a devil among devils. They can only serve him carefully.
"Do you have a knife?"
"Only the blade..first release"
"Where's the fire?"
A guy quickly dug out a few matches and a few cigarettes from under the chuang bunk and handed them over.
He lit a cigarette and took a puff, and the pain in his body seemed to be lessened. After finishing the cigarette, Zhuang Yan signaled the guys to light a fire. He gritted his teeth, burned the blade red and sterilized it with difficulty, and then moved it to the right hand.
The bullet hole stretched out.
Zizzi.
The flesh and blood smelled of burning, and the cold sweat on his head was like soybeans, rolling down continuously. Zhuang Yan could only grit his teeth and endure, and picked out the warhead, and then used the high temperature to make the flesh and blood stick together.
Stop bleeding from wounds.
The prisoners around were looking at him like this, with chills in their hearts. Just looking at him felt like he was going to die of pain, let alone doing it so many times in a row. But the Chinese man didn't even hum, as if
It was as if they didn't feel any pain. They were all shocked and felt that the Chinese people were indeed not comparable to ordinary people.
By the time the injury was taken care of, Zhuang Yan was almost exhausted, as if he had just climbed out of the water. Sweat beads were dripping down, forming a small puddle on the ground. Fortunately, he had drunk enough before.
blood, otherwise, I am afraid I will die of dehydration.
"Take it."
"Yes, yes." A guy came over and stretched out his hand, ready to take the blade.