"I will ask you one more time. Why did you target Tushan Jing Ci's Scholar's Attendant!"
Chen Bing's gaze was as cold as if he were looking at a dead man.
"I… I truly didn't target Xiao Mo. It… it was all just a coincidence…"
Wang Zhong coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Blood trickled from his eyes, nose, and ears.
"Still defiant?"
Chen Bing's voice was laced with anger.
In the next instant, a large hand materialized from Spiritual Power, wrapped around Wang Zhong's neck, and slowly lifted him into the air.
Suspended in the air, Wang Zhong kicked his legs frantically. An overwhelming survival instinct drove him to clutch desperately at the illusory hand.
The nine-year-old Chen Jue kept his head bowed and his back bent, never once glancing at Wang Zhong.
And yet, his body couldn't help but tremble.
