Tang San opened his mouth, wanting to say something more, but when he saw Qian Ren Shuang's expression that said, "Say one more word and I'll turn on you," he ultimately swallowed his words and lowered his head to shovel down a mouthful of rice.
"Yeah, yeah," Xiao Wu chimed in from the side, twirling her chopsticks around. "Sanpao got kicked half to death by your master a couple days ago. What's wrong with letting him have a good meal to build himself back up?"
Tang San had not expected even Xiao Wu to take the other side. He choked for a moment, then found an excuse to feign grievance while actually shifting the blame. "I was just worried Brother Shuang would get eaten out of house and home..."
"Our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect is wealthier than nations." Ning Rongrong shot Tang San a disdainful glance. "They're just two detached martial souls that eat meat. What's so unaffordable about that?"
After they chatted for a while, Oscar suddenly came sprinting back from the dormitory area, his face deathly pale. Reaching the dining table, he bent over and gasped heavily, cold sweat covering his forehead. "Everyone... ha... listen to me... Boss Dai... and Fatty are dead!"
"What?" Tang San abruptly put down his chopsticks and shot to his feet. "I'm going over there. You all stay here and finish eating."
With that, he rushed toward the dormitory building without looking back.
Having grown up in the Tang Sect, an assassin organization, in his previous life, Tang San possessed some knowledge of examining corpses.
He needed to confirm the situation with his own eyes—whether there was poison, whether there were wounds, whether there were signs of a struggle. Those details had already begun arranging themselves in his mind.
Upon hearing this,