"I will ask you once more. Why did you target Tushan Jingci's page?"
Chen Bing stared coldly at Wang Zhong, as though he were looking at a dead man.
"I... I truly wasn't targeting Xiao Mo. It was... it was all just a coincidence."
Wang Zhong spat out a mouthful of blood.
Blood seeped from his eyes, nose, and ears.
"Still refusing to talk?"
Anger edged Chen Bing's voice.
The next moment, a huge hand formed from Spiritual Energy seized Wang Zhong by the throat and slowly lifted him.
Suspended in midair, Wang Zhong kicked his legs incessantly, his fierce desire to live driving him to clutch that illusory hand with all his strength.
Chen Jue, only nine years old, kept his head lowered and his waist bent, never once looking at Wang Zhong.
Yet his body trembled involuntarily.
"I will ask you one last time! Why did you provoke that page from Tushan Manor?" Chen Bing's patience seemed to have reached its limit, as though he would obliterate Wang Zhong's body and soul in the next instant.
"I... I truly didn't mean to provoke him... It was all... all a coin... coincidence... That Xiao Mo was meddling... meddling in other people's business..." Wang Zhong's eyes had already rolled back, his voice desperately weak.
"Hmph!"
Chen Bing snorted coldly and swept his wide sleeve.
Wang Zhong was hurled heavily to the ground, smashing a great crater into it and losing consciousness completely.
"Jiao Worshiper, take Wang Zhong away and treat his injuries. Don't let him die."
Seated in his chair, Chen Bing addressed the court retainer beside him.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Jiao Worshiper bowed with clasped hands and hurriedly carried Wang Zhong away.
Only Chen Bing and his son Chen Jue remained in the room.
Chen Bing took another sip