Xu Yang walked to the back of the woods and stopped three zhang away from Zhao Mushen.
"Mr. Zhao, you're a bit late."
Though wary inside, his expression did not change in the slightest.
Zhao Mushen narrowed his eyes, his voice cold: "You're her son?"
At the mention of his mother, Xu Yang's eyes reddened. He nodded silently.
Zhao Mushen drew a deep breath, a flash of complex emotions—anger, resentment, coldness, and bitterness—in his eyes.
But it was only for a moment before he returned to his icy composure: "Since you know I am of the Cyan Gang Sect, are you not afraid I'll kill you?"
"Don't think just because this is the Kunwu Division's camp, I cannot do it!"
At these words, Xu Yang actually felt relieved, replying coolly: "If Mr. Zhao truly intended to kill me, I would've been dead the moment you dropped that note."
Zhao Mushen fell silent immediately.
Neither spoke.
For a long while.
He murmured: "How old are you?"
"Sixteen!"
