In a manor that leans towards classical style, Bi Quan and his son Bi Junxian sat facing each other in a pavilion, their faces clouded with worry, looking very grim.
The pavilion was built in the center of a pond, where the water gently flowed, with koi occasionally leaping out of the water.
This scene placed in summer or autumn would not be considered any rare beauty, but in winter, it was quite a sight to behold.
However, neither of them had any interest in appreciating the view.
This was understandable. Losing eighty million all at once would make anyone unable to admire even the most beautiful scenery.
After a long while, Bi Junxian suddenly stood up, a fierce look on his face, and said, "Dad, I'll gather some people right now. Those bastards are going to die today!"
"Wait a bit longer, let's talk when Guan Huarong arrives." Bi Quan, with eyes half-closed, seemingly about to fall asleep, said.
