Ling Chen smashed the jar.
There seemed to be a hint of anger in that smash.
Just a short while earlier, Ling Chen had argued with his older brother.
Ling Fu had said:
"You should lead from the front. That's how you keep me from falling from my position. I haven't settled the score with you over what happened earlier."
Ling Chen was confused:
"Brother... what did I do wrong?"
Ling Fu said with a smile:
"When I'm here, do you need to speak up? 'Better for the old, weak, sick, and disabled to die than the young and capable.' Heh, my dear little brother, do you think you're good at organizing people?"
Ling Fu's smile frightened Ling Chen. He remembered his brother smiling just like that as a child, before beating him.
But a moment later, the cruelty in Ling Fu's smile faded again:
"But don't be afraid. We're brothers. You're the only family I have in this world."
"You've already done time once for taking the blame for me. So let's perform well this time and get ourselves under Wen Xishu's wing."
"You saw what Wen Xishu did earlier. He's in a different league from us. He has far too many mysterious trump cards. My dear little brother, you need to show some backbone. From now on, I need you to lead from the front, just like him."
Ling Chen simply couldn't refuse his brother's demands, especially when his brother rested a hand on the back of his head as if stroking it.
He was terrified that if he said no, his brother would clamp down and slam his head into the floor.
And so Ling Chen, who possessed an exceptional talent for numbers, became the first person in the group of the old, weak, sick, and disabled