Mr. Chen was in tears, repeatedly begging for mercy.
The meticulously styled slicked-back hair was now disheveled, sticking to his forehead, which was drenched with cold sweat.
He had no choice, standing before this Killing God who regarded human life as worthless.
If he didn't quickly concede, his fate would be like Wei Qiang's, his head blasted open, turned into a mess of flesh.
Even though he had been mingling in the Martial World for years, he had never witnessed such inhumane brutality, and it shattered his courage.
Fang Cheng walked over, looking down at him:
"What is your relationship with Wei Qiang?"
"No relation, no relation!"
Mr. Chen, terrified, waved his hands repeatedly, hurried to dissociate himself:
"I'm in the liquor business, I have absolutely nothing to do with that bastard Wei Qiang!"
