Jiang Che's words—"The price for injuring my master"—sent a violent tremor through Zhao Kang's heart!
'Master?'
'What does that mean?'
'Could it be...'
'This person is a disciple of one of those martial arts hall masters?!'
'This... How is this possible?!'
He was utterly dumbfounded.
What's more, the horrifying state of his brother's corpse filled him with such terror that his stomach began to churn.
He didn't even notice the warm, wet patch spreading across his crotch.
Jiang Che shook his head.
'This kind of scum thinks he's fit to be a king? He only knows how to lord it over those weaker than him. The moment he encounters a true expert, his pathetic nature is instantly exposed.'
He wasted no more words. He squatted down, looked at Zhao Kang, and said, word by word:
"I just need you to do one thing for me."
"After you've done it, I will let you go."
"Please, Senior! Just tell me what to do! I'll do it, I swear!" Zhao Kang nodded frantically, as if clutching a lifeline.
