"Fucking hell, we all earned the money, why should this little brat get to take it all by himself?"
Xu Jun grabbed Chen Yubo's head and roared, "Old Lin, Chen Xingzhou is almost dead, what the hell are you still holding out for? Are you capable of it? After taking the money, is it not good for everyone to split it and go their separate ways?!"
"No, it's not good."
Old Lin tugged at the tablecloth, wiping the blood off his hands, expressionless, "The money that's yours, you should take, and take it with a clear conscience. But if it's not yours, don't touch it, not even a tap—touch it and you'll get burned, and end up with nowhere to bury your dead body."
"Your mother's dead! I'm going to send this son of a bitch to meet his brother right now!"
Seeing no hope of survival, Xu Jun's face twisted with malice as he decisively pulled the trigger. "Go eat shit!"
Alas, there was no loud bang, no gush of blood.
Just the clicking sound of a jammed gun.
One click, and another.