The atmosphere in the living room of the Cheng family villa was somewhat heavy.
After hanging up Uncle Long's call, Zhang Yang fell into deep thought.
Cheng Tianming wanted to speak but hesitated, his eyes full of worry.
After years of struggling in the East River business circle, he knew better than anyone how cunning Uncle Long was.
"Dad, there's no better option now," Cheng Yue said softly.
Jin Tuantuan leaned against the door frame, fiddling with a small butterfly knife, then sneered, "Uncle Long may be cunning, but he has old grudges with the Qingyi Sect, which is the only leverage we have."
Then Jin Tuantuan's gaze swept over Lin Haoyu, who was tied to a dining chair, "As for this Young Master Lin, he seems to be of no use."
Lin Haoyu made muffled sounds, stared wide-eyed, and shook his head desperately, trying to break free from the ropes, the chair legs making a harsh noise on the floor.
"Be quiet," Xia Xue frowned and kicked the chair.
