Zhenwu District.
Frost Hotel.
Fifth floor, presidential suite.
An ordinary-looking middle-aged man in blue and black sportswear waved his hand slightly.
In the air, Lu Chuan's head, which was formed by tiny water droplets, instantly melted and fell into the glass cup in his hand, turning into a pool of green tea in the cup.
The middle-aged man raised his head and took a sip of tea. He smacked his lips and said to the two people in the room,
"You should have heard what Lu Chuan said. What do you think?"
What do you think? Isn't he just a messenger?"
A young man sitting on a long wooden sofa blew on his freshly painted red manicure and replied casually.
"What about Seven Kills?"
The middle-aged man called Seven Kills had a buzz cut and a large burn scar on his face. The area around his left eye was bald.
Even though his expression was calm, he still looked extremely ferocious.
