Lin Chan was still brooding over the ten thousand yuan, smacking his lips as he complained, "He Mutou, you might not know this, but back in the day, someone secretly paid for my life too! Only twenty thousand! Why is it that He Zhilan, a little girl, is worth five times my price? Ten thousand! That would make any number of desperadoes go mad with bloodlust!"
He Teng didn't have Lin Chan's good nature; even at a time like this, he was still in the mood to fret about his price being lower than He Zhilan's.
He had thought that after the incident, those who wanted He Zhilan dead might indeed use special channels to buy He Zhilan's life, but a hundred thousand was indeed an absurdly high price.
