It was a casual rhetorical question, but clearly a difficult one to answer.
For a moment, even the silver-tongued elder, who had been riding high, was at a loss for two and a half seconds.
"What makes you think I'm interested in dealing with a lunatic like you?"
But in the end, he lived up to his seniority. With a cold snort, he shot back in a highly aggressive tone.
"Then why'd you come out again?"
If rank had multiple dimensions, then when it came to the authority of mockery, the silver-tongued elder was no doubt worlds apart from Fu Qian—like a man compared to a god.
This time, the silence lasted several two-and-a-half-second intervals.
His face even twisted as a pair of paint-splashed wings unfurled behind him, seeming almost poised to evolve into body language.
But he was, after all, a mature and steady man in middle age. Facing this newly inducted member of the Nightmare Corridor, he ultimately refrained from turning on one of his own.
"So you don't plan on getting out?"
Of course, that didn't mean he was willing to keep being led around by the nose. The next moment, he abruptly changed the subject.
And he picked a good one: no matter what, it was something Fu Qian couldn't afford to ignore.
"Got any advice, then?"
As a specialist who had always stuck to the facts, Fu Qian didn't pull any childish contrarian stunts. He immediately asked for advice, unashamed.
"Hmph..."
At last, the elder's authority had its moment, yet the silver-tongued man showed no sign of triumph. It seemed the lessons from his past dealings with Fu Qian had been etched into his mind: the man before him was truly a cunning, shameless scoundrel. Almost every bit of nonsense and banter had some