The person who arrived, he really couldn't afford to provoke—the one called the Song God, Meng Nan, singing at the bar right now.
This guy is the living god, his money tree, usually too busy flattering and fawning over him. Where would he dare say no to him? This is just one of the reasons.
Meng Nan's hands loosely form a fist, bringing it to his mouth to cough twice, looking very much like a sick person.
He walked up to Gong Hongchen, took out a dagger from his chest, placed it in his hand, and whispered, "Chop me into dumpling filling. Do you need me to buy you a boning knife?"
"Master Meng, stop messing with me." Gong Hongchen, as treacherous as he is, lost all his bluster at the sight of Meng Nan, flashing a smile that couldn't be more radiant.
His mouthful of gold teeth, dazzling and brilliant, gleaming in the light.
"Even if you chop me into dumpling filling, I wouldn't dare make a sound."
