"Did no one tell you to prepare my food?" Qing Chen said coldly. "So that means you didn't have to prepare any?"
The atmosphere in the slave quarters instantly grew heavy. Qing Chen walked up to the foreman, lightly grabbed his collar with one hand, and lifted him into the air.
He let the man struggle, but his hand remained as unyielding as an iron vise.
He sneered. "If you want to pick a side, you first need to see whether you're qualified. What makes you qualified to pick a side?"
The foreman's face flushed red with strain. "You dare kill someone in the Marquis's estate?"
Qing Chen looked puzzled. "Why wouldn't I dare? You're nothing but slaves."
The nearby slaves panicked and hurriedly explained, "You always used to eat in the villa. We only have rough protein bars here, and you wouldn't be able to stomach them. If we suddenly prepared slave food for you, you'd think we were insulting you. Please don't make things difficult for us. We have no choice either."
Qing Chen asked, "You're responsible for cooking in the villa. Why didn't you save any for me?"
"The officers of the Crimson Blood Squad wouldn't allow it."
What they did not say was that the Crimson Blood Squad had implied that the butler might not return alive from the battlefield.
With the hearing enhanced by Dragon Fish, Qing Chen naturally knew what they were planning. Hei Se's thoughts were that it would be best if they could force Qing Chen to resign early, saving them the trouble of leaving evidence behind when they later killed him and being blamed by Marquis Kennedy.
When profit was involved, people truly would stop at nothing.
Of course, seven elite B-Class warriors really had no need to take a mere