He'd never liked Mu Yunchen. And the feeling was entirely mutual. They had overlapping businesses in the underworld but never crossed paths directly, maintaining a careful, hostile distance.
They were enemies by unspoken agreement.
He lifted his porcelain teacup with deliberate grace, steam curling lazily upward in delicate spirals. "I just heard the Tang family is halfway in the grave already." His smile was sharp, cutting. "Should we be offering our condolences... or our applause for that marvelous job?"
He smirked lightly, his eyes raking over Yunchen's disheveled appearance.
This guy was being excessive. What wrong could possibly warrant a death sentence? Did they really deserve to die?
Beside him, Jin Jishu, younger, sharper-tongued, and more reckless, smirked openly, her displeasure evident. "Or perhaps you need our services? I'm sure even the great Mu Yunchen bleeds when he plays the hero for a pretty woman."
