"Why should I leave Qingzhou? As for your so-called Oiran Liu, I couldn't care less about her!"
Lu Renjia, filled with suppressed anger, tightly clutched the wooden box he had saved from the raging fire and berated the few people before him, "None of you are leaving today until you compensate for the shop's losses!"
"Damn it, so ungrateful, you don't deserve a face, compensating your ass!"
One of the fat ones, gesturing grandly to his several martial arts-practicing servants, commanded, "Beat him up! Beat him until even his dad can't recognize him!"
The thugs charged forward.
However, before they could even get close, Zhang Yunwu tossed them aside effortlessly, as if flinging chickens.
After all, Zhang Yunwu was a Second Grade Martial Artist, and even his three basic moves could be considered on par with a First Grade Martial Artist master. These punks stood no chance against Zhang.
The spoiled youths were stupefied, standing motionless, not knowing what to do.
