The wind and dust blowing in his face made Lu Chang'sheng squint his eyes.
The anger in his heart was also gradually fading under the sweep of wind and sand.
"Mr. Zhao, how much do you know about the Shaving Knife Gang?"
"Shaving Knife Gang—" There was a trace of complexity and fear in Zhao Hu's eyes.
"They're a bunch of ruthless desperados. I heard their gang leader and some of the inner circle were all carpenters once—hell, they were all skilled with the planing knife. At first, they made a living with their hands, but later got into trouble, killed someone, and had no choice but to walk the shady road!"
"Of the Four Gates, if you ask which place sees the most ears cut and lives traded, it's gotta be the South Gate!"
"They say even the dead pile higher over there than they do here!"
"The prefecture doesn't care?" Lu Chang'sheng asked, surprised.
