Lin Xiao's words had barely faded when a middle-aged man in his fifties, seething with killing intent, bellowed, "You vermin! You killed my son, and I haven't even settled the score with you. How dare you come here seeking death!"
As he spoke, a powerful, oppressive force rushed forth. Although the man was plain-looking, he exuded an extraordinary aura.
No doubt, this man must be Zhao Chengshan, the head of the Zhao Family.
Lin Xiao, however, looked at him with disdain. "Seeking death? I think it's your Zhao Family that's seeking death. Zhao Qingqing, let me ask you, was it you who ordered my wife's bar to be smashed last night?"
With brazen arrogance, Zhao Qingqing admitted, "That's right, it was me. It's just a crappy bar—so what if I smashed it? What can you do to me?"
