Chen Mo looked at the tattooed men leading the group in front of him.
They were all burly men, holding various offensive weapons in their hands.
Seeing Chen Mo's leisurely appearance, and hearing the words he said, the leader of the group—a middle-aged man—sneered disdainfully.
"Oh, quite brave aren't we? To see us and still not show any reaction, uttering such brash words, you're really courting death as if 'lighting a lamp in the latrine on your goddamn birthday.'"
"It looks like you don't know what we're capable of, but that's okay, we'll break your legs first and then bring you before Young Master Zhang to see how he tortures you!"
Fu Hailong watched quietly with two or three others by his side, a seriousness in his eyes.
Chen Mo didn't know what he should do and could only turn his pleading gaze towards Fu Hailong.
Because he knew that this time only Fu Hailong could help him.
