Chu Qingzhi said unhurriedly, "I'm done asking you about the Lord of the Northern Border. Let's talk about our personal grudges."
Wan Zhilin looked up and asked angrily, "Who are you exactly?"
Chu Qingzhi smiled mockingly at him. "Aren't you surprised that we're people you want to kill but can't?"
Wan Zhilin thought for a moment and looked enlightened. "You are, you are…"
Before he could finish speaking, a bamboo leaf cut across his neck, leaving a thin red line. Wan Zhilin froze and slowly fell to the ground and died.
Tang Jinghong retracted his gaze indifferently. Wan Zhilin had been secretly dealing with them and putting them in life-threatening danger many times. He deserved to die.
Gong Wentang gnawed on his pork trotter with a dumbfounded expression. "That's it?"
Tang Jinghong looked over. "What else do you want?"
Gong Wentang said, "At least ask him where he keeps his money."
