Lu Chengwen grew anxious. "If you dare lay a finger on her, the Jiang Family will never tolerate you again! Neither will this entire martial world!"
Jiang Xiaogou shook his head.
"Lu Chengwen, the son of an American President—even if he tortured a hundred little girls from ordinary families to death, professionals would clean up after him. There would be no news coverage, the media would stay silent, the police would cover for his escape from the scene, and judges would make grand speeches, saying he was framed by his opponents because of his father's background..."
"Forget killing her today. Even if I killed ten more, someone would naturally clean up after me."
"And you!"
Jiang Xiaogou said, "All you can do is feel powerless. Someone will come talk to you, telling you to stay silent—for the sake of world peace, for public stability, for keeping the rules running..."
Zhao Ritian roared, "Impossible! You're lying!"
Lu Chengwen gripped Gentleman's Snow tightly. "He's telling the truth."
"Huh!?"
Long Aotian stared coldly at Jiang Xiaogou and took a deep breath. "I and countless soldiers risked our lives on the front lines... Is this the privilege of the aristocrats we were protecting...?"
Liu Ruyan kept a stern face. "Ghost Race scum. Pah."
Jiang Xiaogou said, "Let's talk. Aren't you all tired?"
Zhao Ritian stomped his foot. "Fine! I'll give you the money back, and you let him go!"
Jiang Xiaogou smiled. "You really had it? Fine, tell me. Where's the money?"
Zhao Ritian pulled a kraft paper bag from his clothes. Reluctant beyond measure, he finally gritted his teeth and threw it over.
He bit his lip, trying his hardest not to cry.
Jiang Xiaogou looked down at it, then raised his head. "What?"
"Your money! One hundred and forty million!"
Jiang Xiaogou