In the morgue of the headquarters, there were still seven heads placed on the table.

It was unclear whether the Marshal had forgotten or what, but without his orders, no one dared to handle these heads.

They had been left there for a whole month.

Today, another head was added to the table.

The Marshal was very happy; he had finally resolved a matter and would no longer worry about any monkeys coming to kill him.

Tonight, he could finally have a good night's sleep.

That night, the Marshal habitually wanted to place the gun under his pillow. Maybe he felt that since the dwarf was dead, there was no need to be on guard anymore, so he put the gun into its holster and hung it at the head of the bed.

He lay down to sleep, but somehow, he thought of that scar-faced monkey, the one that bit the young marshal to death.

Thinking of that terrifying, twisted, and ugly monkey face, he inexplicably shivered all over.

"I can't be afraid of a monkey," he thought. "Besides, I've killed all the monkeys, that beast wouldn't dare come to send itself to death."

With that thought, he fell asleep peacefully.

He didn't know how long had passed, but in a daze, the Marshal felt like he was in a forest, surrounded by monkeys both on the ground and in the trees.

Right in front of him was that scar-faced monkey, surrounded by countless other monkeys.

The scar-faced monkey spat out human words: "You've killed so many of us monkeys, give up your life quickly!"

Several other monkeys nearby also began to speak: "Why did you kill us?"

Terrified, the Marshal retreated. When he looked again at the scar-faced monkey, it was no longer a monkey but that damned dwarf.

Furious, the Marshal wanted to draw his gun to kill the dwarf.

But when he reached for his waist, the gun was gone.

At that moment, the dwarf turned back into the scar-faced monkey and pounced on him.

Its mouth opened wide, aiming for his neck!

The Marshal suddenly sat up in bed, reaching under his pillow but not finding his gun.

It was then that he realized it was just a dream.

The Marshal exhaled a long breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, patted his chest to calm his nerves, and prepared to sleep again.

Just as he lay back down, his eyes saw a dark shadow sitting at the foot of the bed, revealing a monkey's face with a scar running from the brow to the corner of its mouth.

The Marshal was fully aware that this was not a dream; he quickly rolled off the bed and reached for his gun.

The dark shadow pounced at this moment.

Three gunshots rang out, followed by a scream.

The gunfire alarmed the guards, who quickly approached.

A team of guards rushed to the Marshal's room as fast as possible.

They found the door wide open, the tables and chairs inside overturned, and neither the Marshal nor the assassin in sight.

Inside the room, a pool of blood was exceptionally striking.

The blood trail led from the room to outside, from outside to the corridor.

The guards cautiously followed the blood trail.

Unknowingly, they found themselves outside the morgue of the headquarters.

The morgue door was open, and a monkey sat at the entrance, its face bearing a prominent scar from brow to the corner of its mouth.

The monkey had been shot three times and had already lost its breath.

Inside the morgue, a headless corpse lay on the ground, and a fresh head had been placed on the table with the other heads.

The face of the head still showed the fear of its last moments.

It had been bitten off from the neck by the monkey.

Blood and flesh were a mess!

It was the Marshal's head!

Nine heads were lined up in a row.

Each displaying the expressions they had before death.

Some showed fear, some rage, some unwillingness, and some calm...