Before long, several people emerged from the room. Two of them were dressed no differently from the guards stationed inside and outside the Cao residence.
As for the other two, they were old acquaintances of Meng Zhao.
One was the man who had once been sent to hunt down Hong Minghui, only for Meng Zhao to kill all but one survivor. He now kept his head lowered and followed at the very back.
The other was Boss Xu, whom Meng Zhao had met before—the very man who had hired pawnshop assassins to murder Meng Zhao.
He had come bearing Meng Zhao's sincerity and message, yet Uncle An—Cao Quan'an—seemed indifferent and unconcerned with any of it.
Moreover, Boss Xu vaguely sensed that Cao Quan'an was deliberately hinting that he should stay far away from all disputes and go back to living his own quiet life.
He would never dare forget the life-saving favor from those years, yet today Cao Quan'an had deliberately told him to forget it, displaying an immense sense of distance.
Though this made Boss Xu suspicious, it also left him somewhat relieved.
He owed a debt of gratitude to one person, and one person only: Cao Quan'an. Since Cao Quan'an had already said as much, he no longer had anything weighing on his heart.
As for the Hong Sect, he truly was not familiar with it. They simply were not cut from the same cloth.
Yet Boss Xu had no real way to address the doubts and worries in his heart.
Even after only a brief encounter, he could see that Cao Quan'an's bearing, voice, and appearance remained unchanged. Though he carried the air of old age, the majesty of a fierce tiger had not faded. His domineering martial arts and vast cultivation still placed enormous pressure on