The muscles in Gao Tianliang's face twitched almost imperceptibly.
He had imagined countless possible reactions from Qin Feng.
Panic, a desperate defense, angry demands for an explanation...
Every single one had been within his expectations, and every one would have achieved the effect he wanted—establishing his authority.
But he had never imagined that the other man's response would be so... unconventional.
What did he mean, "You're a decent guy"?
What did he mean, "Now that's service"?
That flippant yet sincere tone made it seem as though Gao Tianliang was not maliciously setting him up, but enthusiastically serving him a bite of his favorite dish at the dinner table.
It was as if a heavy punch had landed in cotton. All the arrogance and calculations bottled up inside Gao Tianliang were left hanging, neither rising nor falling, clogging his chest until he could barely breathe.
In the instant he froze, Qin Feng had already moved.
Facing the dozens of roaring wraiths, not only did he not retreat, he grinned, flashing a mouthful of white teeth.
"Don't just stand there, brothers. Since you're already here, come on!"
Before his words had even faded, he stomped his foot!
Boom—!
A mass of ghostly green fire erupted out of thin air. Amid the roar of an engine that sounded like the wails of departed souls, a savage motorcycle forged from ghastly white bones and black metal suddenly appeared!
C-Class Legendary Armament, [Netherworld Iron Cavalry]!
Qin Feng swung himself onto it with flair, looking less like he was about to charge into a formation of ghosts and more like he was headed to a late-night rock party.
Then, he clenched his right hand in the air.
A viciously shaped Grim Reaper's scythe condensed in his palm. Its shaft was made of twisted, interwoven white bones,