In an inn.
Wan Zhilin brushed the teacups on the table to the ground again. "Trash! Trash!! A bunch of trash!!!"
"None of the 500 Class A assassins who were painstakingly nurtured came back alive."
"Did they encounter the god of death? There are so many assassins, but they can't even kill six or seven people!"
"Is it so difficult to kill Chu Qingzhi and Tang Jinghong? Failing time and time again? What are you guys doing?"
"Not only did you embarrass me, but you also made me lose so many crossbows. Don't you know how much effort it takes to make crossbows?"
Wan Zhilin vented the anger in his heart by roaring. Chu Qingzhi and Tang Jinghong had already become his psychological trauma.
This time, the subordinate who reported the news to him fell to the ground. He did not know why Chu Qingzhi and Tang Jinghong were so difficult to kill either.
After Wan Zhilin vented his anger, he sat on the chair dejectedly like a deflated ball.
