Du Chengfeng quickly understood Wu Zhao's intentions.
When he wore Wu Zhao's face and walked among the crowd, the soldiers brought by Wu Zhao all worshipped him devoutly—even though they had long harbored some, if not many, grievances against their brutal leader, they still remembered clearly who had just saved their lives.
"But the question is, do they remember me?"
Faced with the crowd's gratitude, Du Chengfeng's face turned dark.
Simply because these people weren't actually grateful to him at all.
But to Wu Zhao.
Even though it was Du Chengfeng who had just saved them, Du Chengfeng was still wearing Wu Zhao's face. So, in their eyes, it was Wu Zhao who saved them—as for Du Chengfeng himself, he became the one chasing them, while the three Wu Zhaos wearing his face rampaged through the crowd, making him a sort of murderous demon in the soldiers' eyes.
But when did his face change?
"Those fanged bullets just now!"
