"Dragon Lord."
The night manager of Night Irreturnable stood outside, looking at the middle-aged man who had just descended from a luxury car, his heart feeling ice-cold.
Young Master of Outer Heaven had actually died.
And he had died silently.
Although this young master was a wastrel and a scion of wealth, despised by him inwardly, he couldn't ignore the fact that the young master's father was a formidable man.
His father, Long Ao, owned half of Huacheng's entertainment venues.
"It was you who called me to tell me that my son is dead!"
Sweat beaded and streamed down the manager's forehead.
"Yes, it was me."
The manager felt the scorching glare, which was like the peak of Mount Tai pressing down, causing a chill to shoot up his spine.
Long Ao lifted his leg and fiercely kicked the manager's portly stomach: "You bunch of trash, my son is dead, why are you still alive?"
