The wailing of Duke Yua, the cries of injustice, instantly gave Ye Zhen the feeling of disaster descending upon him from nowhere while he sat idly at home.
The battles Ye Zhen has fought, the people he has killed, the brawls he has been in, are countless.
Ye Zhen always had control when making a move, how could Marquis Chii Quan Shi Ting possibly have died from severe injuries?
"Lord Yua, indeed, I had a little conflict with your son yesterday, but I was very measured, and your son only suffered superficial wounds; he was fine when he left, and the people from the Inspection Department and the Heavenly Patrol Department can testify," Ye Zhen said, stepping forward with cupped hands out of necessity.
"Pei!"
The grief-stricken Duke Yua Shi Ming Po spit at Ye Zhen forcefully, "Superficial wounds! How could you say that?
If they were only superficial wounds, why would my son die from severe injuries overnight?"
