Young master mo has invited an ancestor back

"Bang!"

Before Qi Shang could finish his words, a table lamp on the bedside table was suddenly swept down by Zhan Mo's single hand, smashing towards him.

The base of the wooden table lamp smashed into his thigh, dislocating his left knee.

The table lamp fell to the ground and shattered into pieces.

Qi Xiang let out a muffled groan and uncontrollably covered his left knee. His forehead was already covered in cold sweat from the pain.

Zhan mo glanced coldly at his assistant, who was half-supporting himself on the floor in pain.

The low and cold voice was mixed with coldness. "I don't want to hear anyone talking bad about Mengmeng behind her back. Next time, if you spout nonsense again, you might as well give up this tongue of yours."

Zhan Mo's eyes were cold and indifferent, as if he was looking at a dead object.

Qi Xiang had been by Zhan Mo's side since he was young, so he naturally knew that this was a sign of his anger.