Mr. Zhao has always been worried about eating. What he worries about is not where to find the next meal, but how to get rid of his mouth in time, pull away, slip around, slip under Cen Qingwu's hands, and save his butt and buttocks in time for the next meal.
He didn't expect that there would be a time when he wouldn't have to worry about eating. He's dead, he's already dead and still has to eat six! After death, it's time to go up the mountain of knives and the mountain of knives, and it's time to get off the oil pan. But when he goes in, he doesn't have to take on anything or take off anything. Isn't this good luck? Ah bah! When the Lord of Hell is so poor that he has no more than two ounces of oil, you will know that you are dead!
Conception: