But the leading big man forced a smile and said: "You're at death's door and still stubborn like a cooked duck. You still think you can leave here alive today; hahaha, that's a joke."
The big man's laugh was strained, even he himself felt a lack of confidence. But he didn't know why; he had never felt this way before. It was as if he was being subdued by an invisible aura, feeling terribly uncomfortable.
"Haha, 'at death's door,' that's a nice phrase but you used it on the wrong person. It's not me who is at death's door—it's you." Just as Jiang Cheng finished speaking, he charged forward, unwilling to waste too much time on this group of small-time thugs.
Moreover, he was already in a foul mood today, feeling as though he had been led by the nose all day, lacking even a shred of personal freedom. He needed to take the initiative and strike back, no longer be passive. It was surely the saddest day of his life, yes, 'sad' was the perfect word to describe it now.
