"Our master has gone out and hasn't returned yet," the disciple replied hastily.
"Call him and tell him the martial arts school is on fire," Ye Xiong ordered.
"The martial arts school isn't on fire."
"If you don't make the call, it will be immediately—do you believe me?"
The disciple dared not disbelieve, for the man before him gave off the impression of a madman. With the way he was acting, what couldn't he do?
"Master, the martial arts school is on fire..."
When the disciple made the call, his voice nearly broke into tears.
Half an hour later, a luxurious stretch limousine appeared at the entrance of the martial arts school.
In his forties, having long held a position of power, and bristling with murderous intent, Duan Wu stepped out of the car.
He glanced at his martial arts school, which was not on fire, and immediately stormed in with a furious demeanor.
He had planned to go in and harshly discipline the disciple who made the call, but as he entered, he was stunned.
