Slow-Witted

Slow-Witted

Just as they were about to have someone clear things away, Shen Wuxiao had already stepped forward.

Following suit, he picked up three incense sticks and lit them.

He held the incense before his forehead, gave a slight nod, and inserted them into the censer.

It counted as his offering to Long Boqi's mother.

Shen Wuxiao's women followed close behind. Seeing this, everyone else stepped forward as well.

Long Boqi trembled all over, his vision blurred as he fought to hold himself together.

Smiling, Shen Wuxiao patted his shoulder. "Your mother was called Xiang Huijuan. Once those scattered Long Family political resources have been consolidated, change your surname!"

"Alright!" Long Boqi laughed.

"Not bad. Head of the Xiang Family—work hard!" As Shen Wuxiao spoke, the Judge's Brush in his right hand spun out.

It lodged directly into the top of Long Bowen's head as he knelt on the ground.

Long Bowen's entire body shook, his eyes bulging wide.

He died on the spot.

Everything had happened so suddenly that Long Qingyuan nearly fainted again.

Just then, a large group of men in Zhongshan suits entered from outside.

The man at the front was remarkably handsome, his heroic bearing pressing down on everyone around him. Even his stride carried an imposing presence.

It was Shen Family's third uncle, Shen Tianyan!

"Big nephew, you moved fast!" Shen Tianyan came over with a hearty laugh.

"Just taking care of something on the way!" He pointed at Long Qingyuan. "He's right here. I'll leave the rest to you, Uncle. I'm heading home for dinner!"

"Don't worry. Your uncle won't have time to visit anyone for a while. We'll meet again at your grandfather's birthday banquet."

"Your cousin's been talking about you for ages. He insists on tagging along with you. If you can,