Meng Zhao was in no great hurry to pry open Geng Pomo's mouth. He had made so many preparations before this, and now that the time for harvest was drawing near, he naturally would not act rashly.
First crush the other party's spirit and break their will, then use this gentle approach to soften their intent to resist. The method was nothing new, but it was certainly effective. At the very least, Meng Zhao did not believe Geng Pomo was the sort who could not be swayed by either soft or hard tactics.
Sure enough, when he had nearly finished eating, Geng Pomo patted his stomach. Though the pain from his wounds still made him frown, his gaze was relaxed, and some of its former vitality had returned. He said,
"Fine. Say what you want. So long as I can produce it, I will not haggle."
What a fellow—he had taken Meng Zhao for a kidnapper. Though the hope was slim, he still wanted to use the chips in his hand to trade for a chance at survival, or even freedom.
"Haha, you are quite carefree. That seems somewhat at odds with the image of the Indestructible Vajra I have heard of."
Meng Zhao was not the only one who thought so. Ji Rushuang, standing beside the hanging stove in the room, thought the same. She had personally lived through the Liu Family's extermination, and her impression of Geng Pomo and the other Vajras had long tended toward the demonic and monstrous. Fear outweighed all else, so naturally she could not have held any favorable opinion of them.
Yet before Meng Zhao, no matter how savage a man was, he seemed to have his sharpness and claws snapped away, becoming calm and even-tempered. It was not because their dispositions were