Zhou Leng glanced at Jiang Yan and said, "I don't know about tea ceremonies, but I want a guarantee that from now on, whether it's Jiang Yan or Tao Bing, they'll be respectful and polite when they see us."
Tu Rong and the others' faces darkened, but they still had to bend down to offer tea.
Just then, over twenty people jogged over from a distance, their footsteps echoing on the stone pavement.
"Tu Rong! Is Tu Rong here? I heard from a friend that you're surrounded?"
The people on this side slowly moved over, standing behind Zhou Leng and Xue Chengsong.
The doorway of Club 797's main entrance was dimly lit.
Seven injured people stood in the middle, Zhou Leng and his group on the left, over twenty people on the right.
The leader had a Mohawk hairstyle, the sides of his head shaved clean, the hair in the middle sticking up like a rooster's comb.
He wore a leather vest, revealing his scar-covered muscular arms.
He was about to curse when he saw Xue Chengsong and frowned.
