"Argh! Yes! Good Meat!" Ji'an grunted in a deep, exaggerated, thuggish voice, trying to destroy the 'gentle young master' illusion. "I love killing things! Blood! Violence!"
The three sisters stared at her, horrified by the sudden, grotesque shift in table manners.
Sitting directly across from Ji'an, Lin Xuan suddenly whimpered.
The thirteen-year-old boy, who had been quietly and desperately trying to enjoy his chicken broth, flinched violently backward.
He remembered the last time his sibling had drastically shifted their personality.
He remembered the sultry whispers, the crimson blindfold, the straddling, and the heavy cast-iron spatula coming down on Blood-Hand Tu's skull.
The severe psychological trauma of the dungeon raid flared up with catastrophic intensity.
"No tricks!" Xuan shrieked, slamming his hands over his nose to preemptively stop the bleeding, terror written all over his face. "Please, Third Brother! No more bed tricks! I can't watch it again!"
