"Our master is out and hasn't returned yet," the disciple replied hastily.
"Call him. Tell him the martial arts school is on fire," Ye Xiong ordered.
"But the martial arts school isn't on fire."
"If you don't make that call, it will be very soon. You believe me, don't you?"
How could the disciple dare to refuse? The man before him seemed like a complete madman. Given his behavior, was there anything he wouldn't do?
"Master, the martial arts school is on fire..." As the disciple made the call, his voice was on the verge of tears.
Half an hour later, a luxurious stretch limousine pulled up to the entrance of the martial arts school.
A man in his forties stepped out of the car. It was Duan Wu, a man who had long held a position of power and now bristled with murderous intent.
He glanced at his martial arts school, saw that it wasn't on fire, and stormed inside in a rage.