At this time, Feng Fuce had already rushed back to the Xiuluo Guard under the veil of night.
As soon as he returned, he asked the guard, "Has anyone been here just now?"
The guards looked at each other and shook their heads, "No one has visited."
Feng Fuce nodded faintly, "Understood."
He lightly twisted his sleeve and walked inside.
It seemed he returned just in time; the little rascal hadn't come yet.
Chu Ping dragged the injured boy inside.
Perhaps along the way, the boy struggled fiercely; his left foot was already injured, a bloody mess.
After the dragging and bumping, the dripping blood became more conspicuous.
Feng Fuce heard the boy's suppressed, painful breathing.
He frowned and turned his head to see Chu Ping panting, trying hard to hang the boy on the punishment rack.
Feng Fuce spoke coldly, "What are you doing?"
Chu Ping paused, "He spoke disrespectfully to the Marquis, was he not brought here for a session of severe punishment?"
