A Real Murderer

The pickpocket, whose arms had been dislocated, started to panic. His tricks were of no use to people who were stronger than him. Just like a paper tiger, both his arms were dislocated just like that.

Was Ye Jian really going to dislocate his legs?

That was right!

She would really dislocate his legs.

Ye Jian meant what she said.

The middle-aged pickpocket was already defenseless. Now that his arms were dislocated, he couldn't resist at all. Ye Jian grabbed the back of his collar and threw him down the aisle. Amidst the screams, the pickpocket was thrown down the aisle by Ye Jian like a piece of cloth. His head hit the seat, and he screamed like a pig being slaughtered.

"Murder, murder…"

The middle-aged pickpocket, who had stolen money that was meant to save a life, shouted for help. He looked at his accomplice in the middle of the carriage whose fingers had turned yellow from smoking.