In his rage, Zhang Xiaoshan nearly beat Liu Qinghong to death with a single punch.
Liu Qinghong lay on the ground some meters away, his forehead gushing blood, his skull cracked open. Blood ran down his forehead, blurring his vision.
He painfully wiped the blood from his face and struggled to open his eyes.
By then, a large hand had already grabbed his throat.
"Zhang, Zhang Xiaoshan..."
Finally able to see the face of the person before him, Liu Qinghong grew pale with guilt and fear.
"Where's Little Ya?"
Zhang Xiaoshan's face was ashen, his entire body emanated a murderous aura, looking as if he could devour someone alive.
Baldy Liu and two of his men stood a dozen meters away, not daring to approach.
"What, what Little Ya? I don't understand what you mean."
Liu Qinghong continued to deny.
"Crack, crack, crack..."
Zhang Xiaoshan showed no mercy and suddenly exerted force, making Liu Qinghong's throat crack, ready to snap at any moment.
