After leaving the bar, Li Tianshun did not take Ye Chen back to the Qiao Family.
Joking aside, with Ye Chen's current "heaven-shocking" appearance, if he were sent back to the Qiao Family, they would probably chase him out with brooms. Li Tianshun would be humiliated along with him!
So, he casually found a small inn nearby that did not require ID registration and booked a room.
Then he urgently summoned several of his underlings who handled all the dirty work.
"Quick! Go to the supermarket downstairs and buy a few of the stiffest brushes you can find, plus disinfectant. Get two bottles of toilet cleaner too!"
"Scrub him clean! Scrub him so hard his skin peels!"
Watching his subordinates pinch their noses with troubled expressions, Li Tianshun stood at the door smoking, furiously grumbling to himself.
He seriously suspected that the so-called master of the Temple of the God of Slaughter had something wrong with his brain.
Otherwise, why did Ye Chen always insist on being so unconventional?
When he attended the old madam's birthday banquet, dressing like a junk collector was one thing.
But when Li Tianshun had bailed him out of the police station earlier today, he had been perfectly fine. How had he turned himself into something that looked like it had just been hauled out of a septic tank by nightfall?
"Damn it... does this guy have some kind of grudge against golden bread for life?"
"Or does he actually like this stuff? Does he have some weird fetish?"
Inside the room, several lackeys fought back their nausea as they stripped Ye Chen down to nothing but his underwear and threw him into the bathtub.
They gripped stiff-bristled floor brushes, poured on copious amounts of disinfectant, and gave Ye Chen's body a savage "industrial-grade" scrubbing.