Chu Yan was exceptionally intelligent. After Wang Tianshuang's explanation, she instantly grasped the stakes of the situation. She turned to Zhou Fan, a hint of anxiety in her beautiful eyes.
"It seems our Patriarch Zheng isn't being very honest," Zhou Fan said with a faint smile, gently applying pressure with the hand on Zheng Hu's shoulder.
With a loud CRACK, Zheng Hu's entire arm was nearly torn from its socket. The searing pain made him drop to his knees, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
Seeing this, the few subordinates behind him started forward to help, but a figure moved faster, intercepting them in a flash.
Amid flashes of cold light, a dagger danced through the air. In the span of a few breaths, all seven men who had tried to step forward collapsed, a thin, fatal gash across each of their throats.
