60,000 yuan wasn't a huge sum for Qian Ming, but it certainly wasn't trivial either.
Even though he had been mocked by Lu Luo, there was hardly any shame in his eyes; it was more a feeling of embarrassed rage.
With the previously intimidating Lu Luo there, he hadn't dared to show his feelings.
But now that Lu Luo had left, he grabbed an ashtray and, with a SMASH, flung it to the ground.
"What worthless trash are you? Just a bunch of country bumpkins!"
Qian Ming's fingers trembled slightly. At this moment, he understood what he lacked: power.
Qian Ming's gaze shifted to the bloodstained scripture Lu Luo had left behind.
He knew this book had granted his mother her youthfulness. This book, perhaps, was the direction in which he should seek power.
As if his soul had been captured, Qian Ming involuntarily reached for the scripture. As he opened the first page, the symbol of a hand holding a flower lit up.
"AAH!~"
...
