Xiao Hao, carrying the baby boy, asked the farmer who had injured his back, "Is this your son?"
The farmer struggled to lift his head and pleaded with Xiao Hao: "He's still young, he doesn't know anything. If you want to kill, kill me."
Xiao Hao sneered:
"What a loving father-son relationship! I'm only a few years older than your son. He's younger, but am I not? If you can use me as food, why can't he!"
Carrying the baby boy, they arrived at the large pot, which was two meters in diameter and was usually used by the villagers to stew pork stew.
The farmer's eyes were bloodshot as he roared, "No, no, please, no..."
The baby boy was suspended above the large pot, steam rising from it, and his cries changed color.
A woman rushed into the yard and saw her son fall into a boiling pot. She frantically tried to pull him out.
The child struggled in the pot, sinking deeper the more he struggled, and the woman had to stick most of her body into the pot to grab him.
Xiao Hao kicked the woman in the buttocks, causing her to fall into the pot. She struggled to get up, but Xiao Hao pushed her back down each time she tried. After seven or eight times, her legs, which were sticking out of the pot, stopped moving.
The farmer roared like a trapped beast, spitting out several mouthfuls of blood. His internal organs were terrified and injured, his eyes bulged, and his breath gradually died. He was literally driven to death by anger.
Xiao Hao, with a detached gaze, admired the farmer's death for a moment before turning around and approaching the boy with the broken leg.
The boy's eyes were filled with fear, and the area beneath him was a mess. Xiao Hao covered his nose, fanned away the stench of urine, pointed to the man with both arms broken, and asked the boy, "Is he your father?"
The boy trembled, unsure how to answer in order to escape his fate.
Xiao Hao smiled and said, "Your father's two arms are in the big pot. You are his son, so you should at least send your two legs over to him to fulfill your filial duty."
"No, no, no..."
The boy tried to deny it, but Xiao Hao didn't care. He swung his axe and chopped off both of the boy's legs.
The boy screamed once, but before he could utter another sound, he fainted.
The farmer, who had lost both arms, had lost too much blood and hadn't had a full meal in a long time. He struggled for a long time but couldn't even stand up. He was completely exhausted and glared at Xiao Hao with hatred. Was this a child?
No, he isn't, he's a demon!
Xiao Hao glared back at the farmer and casually tossed his two little legs into the pot.
"Staring at me?! Didn't you bring me back? If you eat people, you have to be prepared to be eaten."
The boy's mother was awakened by his screams. Upon seeing the terrible state of her husband and son, her eyes rolled back and she fainted again.
I had no time for pity on this snowy night. I hadn't even bitten her yet, what are you pretending for! With a gulp, another corpse appeared in the courtyard.
His son's leg was chopped off, and his wife died in the mouth of a dog. The man with the missing arm still had the energy to glare at Xiao Hao, as if he wanted to remember Xiao Hao's face so that he could settle accounts with Xiao Hao when he went to hell. His temperament was obviously much more ruthless than that of the other farmer.
Xiao Hao spoke softly and slowly:
"I wonder what stewed eyeballs taste like. Today, I'll use yours to try them out first."
Once you've done gouging out eyes, you become a skilled worker.
The farmer was ruthless; even with his eyes gouged out, he didn't utter a sound.
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