"Young Master, I think we should let it go. This beggar has already been beaten half to death by us. If we beat him to death, the authorities may come after us. Besides, so many people are watching—we won't be able to clear ourselves!"
Another Man in Black pleaded for the beggar. It was not that he pitied him; he was mainly afraid that if the beggar died, the authorities would come looking for trouble. After all, he was merely the Young Master's subordinate, with neither power nor influence. If someone truly died, the authorities would certainly hold a few subordinates like them accountable first, not the Young Master. And if the Young Master pushed all the blame onto them, would they not be putting in effort only to gain nothing?
The Man in Purple sneered coldly and said impatiently, "Am I the Young Master, or are you the Young Master? Didn't you understand what I said? Would it not be enough if I took responsibility should anything happen? He's just a beggar. Even if he dies, no one will stand up for him. Whoever does stand up for him will be offending me. Let's see who has the guts."
Hearing this, the subordinates did not dare say anything more and prepared to raise their fists at the pitiful beggar once again.
Just then, a commotion rose from the crowd. People began discussing among themselves, expressing dissatisfaction with the young master's actions. Some accused him of being too cruel, while others sighed over the beggar's miserable plight.
But those voices failed to draw the Young Master in Purple Robes' attention. He remained immersed in his own fury and hatred, utterly unconcerned with what those around him thought.
At that moment, the Young Master in Purple Robes had only one thought