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... rom over two thousand meters. Their pace was unhurried, as if they were strolling through their own courtyard. Not far away, Tang Weizhong stared at Lin Zheyu with a haggard, battered, and twisted expression. Appearing in such a wretched state under the eyes of so many spectators had utterly disgraced him.
"Zhentao, kill him. Help me kill him!" Tang Weizhong rasped hoarsely, his voice nearly hysterical. Unless Zhao Hao died, his thoughts would never find peace.
"Uncle, let us go ...
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