"Young Master," Li Qin stood with his head bowed, fingers clenched tightly around his gun.
"Don't," the man raised his hand slightly, a thin smile always playing on his handsome face, showing neither joy nor anger. He stood with his hands behind his back and, stabilizing himself, looked towards Li Qin, "Don't call me that. I can't bear the title of 'Young Master'."
Li Qin's expression tightened, and he knelt down on one knee, "Young Master..."
"Can't you understand what I'm saying?"
"... Your subordinate deserves death," came the subdued reply.
"Oh?" Mo Nanjue's eyebrows lifted slightly, and as he raised his hand, one of the Men in Black behind him handed him a gun. He didn't load it, simply toyed with it in his hand, "What sin have you committed that warrants death?"
