"In the end, you're just a dog of the Han Family. Did you really think you could have a seat at the table?"
Wang Yaoyang looked at the Golden Saber in his hand, a cold sneer on his face. "I can tell you, these young masters have truly noble bloodlines from prestigious families, something a dog like you could never aspire to. So killing you today is merely a trivial task."
"Fine, if you look down on me so much, then do it. The knife's in your hand; just pull it out and stab it into my heart. Why waste so many words? Isn't it because you're scared?"
Lin Fan snorted coldly, not giving Wang Yaoyang a chance to speak, and continued, "I know you'll say that dealing with someone like me isn't worth dirtying your hands, and you'd have your lackeys take care of me. Then, when the Han Family comes knocking, you'd throw them under the bus as scapegoats. After all, you have lots of lackeys—if not a hundred, at least eighty—and their lives are cheap, just enough to shield you."
