On the way back, the rain gradually grew heavier.
Wang Zhonghe huddled in the back seat like a little wife, his overcoat in tatters.
His usually immaculate side-parted hair had collapsed for the most part, with water still dripping from the tips.
His expression was one of utter grief and indignation, as though he were a decent woman who had just been violated.
Chen Mo, who was driving, caught sight of this out of the corner of his eye, and the corners of his mouth could not help but curl upward.
He had to admit, that beating had been damn satisfying.
How nice it would have been if everyone had just gotten along and slacked off together.
What era was this? And he was still playing the game of killing the chicken to scare the monkey, using public office to settle private grudges.
Chen Mo ran his tongue over his back teeth, and an impulse suddenly rose in him.
If I drag this guy out of the car and beat him up again, will the Killing Intent fusion progress move forward another step?
Wang Zhonghe looked thick-skinned and tough enough. He would not be beaten to death anytime soon.
As he was thinking this, his gaze, which had been flicking toward the rearview mirror, abruptly turned hostile.
Wang Zhonghe's body hair stood on end under that look, and almost instinctively, he shrank another half inch into the corner of the back seat.
His head struck the car door with a dull thud.
"What... what are you looking at?"
"You said you wouldn't touch me! I've already handed over my living soul. What more do you want?"
"Why are you getting so worked up? I haven't even hit you yet."
"Hit me again?"
"Were you cursing me in your heart just