What kind of trash are you stuffing into my Martial Arts Pavilion? Do you really think I'm a vegetarian?

Yang Zhengshan glanced at him. "Doesn't your grandfather give you silver to spend?"

Sun Anyang was stunned. "Marquis Yang, what do you mean by that? This subordinate truly does not understand!"

The fellow was still playing the fool. In truth, he did not think Yang Zhengshan could do anything to him.

Although Yang Zhengshan, the Marquis of Jing'an, was a new noble in the Capital, he felt Yang Zhengshan ought to give his grandfather at least a little face. It was only a few tens of thousands of taels of silver. Could it really be worth Yang Zhengshan slapping his grandfather's face over?

A few tens of thousands of taels of silver!

He had only been at the Martial Arts Pavilion for a few months, and he had already skimmed off tens of thousands of taels!

Yang Zhengshan could not be bothered to waste words with him and ordered directly, "Beat him. Start with a hundred military rods. Just don't beat him to death."

How could he, the dignified Marquis of Jing'an, argue nonsense with a junior? Beat him first, then talk.

The two personal attendants said nothing. They stepped forward and hoisted Sun Anyang up directly.

"Wait, Marquis Yang, Marquis Yang, my grandfather is Marquis Suning!"

"Marquis Yang, ah—"

A miserable scream rang out.

The personal attendants beside Yang Zhengshan did not care who his grandfather was. If Yang Zhengshan said to beat him, then they would beat him—and beat him without mercy.

The military rods kept striking Sun Anyang's body, and with every rod he took, Sun Anyang screamed once.

After more than twenty rods, Sun Anyang fell into a coma.

"Marquis, he's passed out!" Li Chang ran over to report.

"Is he dead?"

"No!"

Yang Zhengshan looked at him. "Splash him awake and keep beating him!"

Li