Everyone could then see clearly: it wasn't the eagle's mistake that they both crashed to the ground; the eagle had clearly been pulled down by the Fat Chicken.
More astonishingly, after such a harsh crash, the eagle was injured, but the Fat Chicken seemed unscathed (its skin was as thick as city walls). Even more shockingly, as the eagle flapped, trying to fly, the Fat Chicken bit onto its talon and, mimicking the eagle, smashed it hard against the ground.
They witnessed such a large eagle being repeatedly slammed to the ground.
"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" The scene grew chaotic. Could a chicken really do this? How strong must it be?
It wasn't surprising that the eagle could catch the Fat Chicken and fly. However, the fact that the Fat Chicken could grab the eagle and slam it to the ground utterly defied Newton's laws. Where was Newton? Shouldn't he intervene?
The Fat Chicken seemed to think: You might be the king of the skies, but on the ground, I am the King!
