Mo Nanjue didn't answer him. He got in the car, ready to start it. "It's none of your business."
Mo Beiyan grabbed his hand on the steering wheel. "Are you here to see a doctor?"
"You're the sick one," Mo Nanjue raised his head coldly. "Are you sure you don't want to move your hand?"
"Fine," Mo Beiyan withdrew his hand and didn't continue to stop him. "Alright, you go ahead, I'll go inside and ask around," he pulled out a silver pistol from his waist. "Put it to someone's head and ask. If they don't talk, they'll eat a bullet. I don't believe no one will confess."
He lifted his leg to leave, but Mo Nanjue got out of the car and grabbed his arm. "You stand right there!"
"What for?" Mo Beiyan raised an eyebrow, turning his head back. "Angry?"
Mo Nanjue kept his handsome face cold. "You better leave quickly. I don't want to fight you here."
