Qu Jianlei was somewhat speechless, "You're really an incompetent maintenance master."
He coughed lightly, "Old Ben, do you know what an A-level maintenance master means?"
"It's not like it's an A-level in Central City," Bentley stammered, "Certainly not an A-level Ultimate Warrior."
However, after riding the motorcycle for a while, he seriously stated, "I'll plan it carefully..."
Meanwhile, the little one stood in a room, trembling all over.
Opposite him sat a fat man, at least two hundred sixty or seventy pounds, with a cigarette in his mouth.
His demeanor was relatively dignified, and his attitude fairly amiable, though his voice was somewhat sharp.
"Little one, I entrusted you with a task, and this is how you handle it?"
The little one dared not speak, only stood there shivering.
"Speak," the fat man said slowly, "otherwise, I'll think you're silently protesting."
