1932 Chapter 1932 Is This Therapy or Is It a Joke

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"Zhonghao, Zhonghao, how are you doing?" The uncle was also terrified. The punching and kicking just now was extremely enjoyable, and he lost his sense of control under the excitement. How did he take pictures of that place? This room was never seen before, how should I explain it.

"I...I'm fine, uncle, is the shoot over yet?" Ling Zhonghao faintly woke up and asked weakly.

"No, this air mass is running too fast, and my palm is too small, why don't we try to find something bigger to take a picture of." Seeing that Ling Zhonghao seemed to be fine, the uncle breathed a sigh of relief and pondered said.

"That's fine!" Ling Zhonghao hesitated for a moment, and gritted his teeth. Although my uncle didn't slap the right place, but the pain has weakened a lot. It seems that this method is still effective.

"Wait a minute, I'll go find a hand-liner." The uncle said and walked out of the room.

Soon, the uncle came back, holding a pair of eight-lensed purple gold hammers. Among the warriors, swords are used the most, but knives are actually used. It is really rare to use this kind of weapon, but the size is small. It is indeed big enough, one size bigger than a pumpkin.

"Uncle, do you really want to use this thing?" Ling Zhonghao swallowed hard, his eyes darkened for a while.

"It's just big enough, don't worry, I've practiced for a while before, and I'm familiar with it." The elder brother danced the octagonal purple gold hammer like a tiger, and accidentally missed the head, and smashed the wall with a hammer. Punch a big hole.

Ling Zhonghao had some confidence at first, but when he saw this scene, he felt chills all over his body.

"I haven't practiced for a long time, and I'm a little rusty. Don't worry, I'll get used to it soon." The uncle smiled honestly, danced a few more times, and was ready to do it.

"Wait, uncle, can you be gentle?" Ling Zhonghao looked at the hole in the wall and said helplessly.

"Yeah." The uncle nodded and raised the big golden hammer.

"Wait." When the big golden hammer fell halfway, Ling Zhonghao shouted again.

"What's the matter?" The uncle stopped in time and asked with some dissatisfaction.

"Other places can be photographed, but you can't smash it here, or it will be useless..." Ling Zhonghao clamped his legs, tears glistened, and his expression was infinitely sad.

"Don't worry, I have a sense of proportion!" After the uncle said this, he smashed it down with a hammer.

"Wuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu who was thrown to the ground with the bed.

Ling Zhonghao raised his head tremblingly, and looked at his uncle with grief and indignation, didn't you say that you have practiced and are familiar with it? Didn't you say you have a sense of proportion? This is clearly the rhythm of smashing people to death.

"I'm sorry, I'm too excited. I made the shot a little harder. It will be fine next time." The uncle said apologetically, and raised the big golden hammer again.

"Don't...don't!" Ling Zhonghao was so frightened that he almost lost his soul, and crawled out with hands and feet.

"Trust uncle, it will be all right this time." The uncle chased after him in a few steps.

I believe you? Believe that you are a weirdo! Ling Zhonghao finally understood that it was a big mistake to find the uncle. None of this guy’s words were reliable. Luan Wu fled desperately, begging bitterly while fleeing, "No, please, please let me go, uncle."

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