I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

Before she could finish speaking, the blonde woman's expression changed.

The anger and twisted feeling vanished in an instant, replaced by dissatisfaction and resentment.

She stood up, and the chair slid back a short distance before hitting the wall.

The blonde woman didn't say anything more, lowered her head, and quickly walked out of the restaurant.

The servant followed behind, sheathing the knife in his hand.

The little girl breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumped, and she put her little hands on the table from under it.

She looked at Zhang Yangqing, very curious: "Why did you help me? It seems like I did something wrong just now."

Zhang Yangqing squatted down, looked her in the eye, and said in a gentle voice with a hint of seduction: "Don't think like that. You will never do anything wrong. Everything you do is right. Don't worry, as long as I'm here, no one can criticize you."

The little girl looked at him with a half-understanding, her eyes shining. She seemed to see the shadow of someone in Zhang Yangqing, someone familiar and dear to her.

Zhang Yangqing continued, "Are you full? Do whatever you want, I'll take care of everything, understand?"

The little girl understood what he meant.

She nodded vigorously, jumped off the chair, and ran out with her teddy bear in her arms.

The footsteps grew lighter and lighter, farther and farther away, until they disappeared at the end of the corridor.

After the brief interlude, Zhang Yangqing arrived at the ninth floor, the room filled with assassins.

He didn't knock; he just pushed the door open and went in.

The assassins inside immediately became alert.

The hand wiping the gun stopped, the smoker stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, and the card player put his cards face down on the table.

All eyes were on Zhang Yangqing, as if they were looking at someone who shouldn't be there.

The middle-aged man, who was leading the group, sat at the far end of the table, hiding the knife in his sleeve.

His eyes were calm, with a hint of doubt.

The middle-aged man leading the group was the calmest of them all, or rather, he was the one who best knew how to hide his emotions.

He held a high position in this place, and he was repeatedly baffled by this guy. Anyone else would have lost their temper long ago.

But he didn't; he was still observing.

He simply couldn't understand why this guy was so rude.

The middle-aged man stood up, walked up to Zhang Yangqing, and asked, "Is there something you need?"

His voice was soft and steady, still devoid of emotion.

Zhang Yangqing had the air of a superior, and his tone was commanding: "Don't ask too many questions, come with me to kill some people."

After saying that, he turned and left without waiting for anyone.

The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment, then followed.

The assassins behind him also stood up, tucked their guns into their waistbands, and put their knives in their boots before following him out the door.

At this very moment, in the lounge on the fifth floor, the rebellious young man was sitting with several strange fellows.

Several bottles of beer and a few plates of peanuts were on the coffee table, and there were cigarette butts and ashes on the floor.

The rebellious young man said smugly, "I just ran into a stupid aboriginal who actually helped me beat up that repairman. It's hilarious! Who does he think he is? A champion of justice? Or some great philanthropist?"

The crew-cut youth leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, holding a bottle of beer in his hand: "Where is he? Let me kill him and steal his clothes, but it's bad luck to wear clothes worn by an idiot like that."

The rebellious young man laughed: "Don't worry, he'll probably come to me on his own. I told him there's a lounge on the fifth floor, and that he can come and sit down whenever he wants. With his kind heart, he'll definitely come."

His tone was full of sarcasm, as if he were talking about prey that he had sent into a net.

Just then, the door was pushed open, and Zhang Yangqing walked in.

The rebellious young man was about to greet him, but he stopped abruptly as soon as he raised his hand. He sensed something was wrong. Zhang Yangqing's aura was completely different from before.

Previously in the laundry room, Zhang Yangqing seemed like a kind-hearted, somewhat naive, and easily fooled newcomer.

But now, Zhang Yangqing, standing at the door, is like a judge, looking down on all living beings from a high position.

His eyes showed no anger, no murderous intent, not even any emotion.

But it was precisely this cleanliness that sent chills down the spines of the rebellious young man.

Zhang Yangqing said, "Kill them all, leave no one alive."

The leader and his men rushed in.

Their movements were quick and efficient, without any unnecessary words or moves.

He grabbed the neck, slit the throat with a knife, and the head fell to the ground.

The troublesome young man struggled with the three people inside for a while, but he was too weak and died on the spot.

The rebellious young man's eyes were wide open, and his mouth was agape, as if asking, "Why did you kill me?"

Even if asked, Zhang Yangqing was too lazy to answer.

After killing the people, Zhang Yangqing took an apple out of his pocket and tossed it to the leader of the gang: "Here's a reward for you. Go back and rest."

The middle-aged man took the apple, looked at it, didn't ask why, nodded, and turned to leave.

Several assassins followed behind, their footsteps light, and they quickly disappeared into the corridor.

After walking a distance, one of the hitmen's underlings next to the leader couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "Boss, why do we listen to him? He's just a monitor."

While peeling an apple with his bloodstained fruit knife, the leader said, "I don't know either. He has such a strong aura, that kind of absolute superiority. I've only ever seen that on the matriarch. I'm scared. Listening to him should be the right thing to do."

He took a bite of the apple, and some dripped down his chin. He wiped it with his sleeve.

The bloodstains on the blade hadn't been wiped clean, and there was a little red on the apple, but he didn't pay attention and continued eating.

Throughout, Zhang Yangqing used a commanding tone, and didn't even bother to explain.

The middle-aged man leading the group couldn't think of any flaws or any reason to refuse.

There was something the leader didn't say: he felt that Zhang Yangqing's aura was even more terrifying than the mistress's, which was the main reason he obeyed.

The audience watching on the big screen were stunned, and the barrage of comments scrolled up rapidly.

Huh? The other chosen ones used apples to ask that assassin uncle for help, but Zhang Yangqing used a commanding tone and even gave him a reward?
You don't understand because you've never met Zhang Tianshi. Zhang Tianshi is usually very easygoing, but once he gets serious, his words are like those of a god, making them impossible to resist.

I understand. Actually, many of the chosen ones figured out that the assassin liked apples because his weapon was a fruit knife. That explains why Zhang Yangqing threw apples to him.

That's right. When Zhang Yangqing made his judgment, he only glanced at it and didn't even bother to analyze it.

In the world of ghost stories, Zhang Yangqing called over the library's maintenance worker.

The repairman walked into the break room and saw corpses scattered all over the floor, bloodstains everywhere, and the carpet soaked in blood, making it sticky to walk on.

His feet stopped at the doorway, and he dared not move forward.

He glanced at Zhang Yangqing, his eyes filled with fear and surprise: "You did all this?"

Zhang Yangqing said, "I just called a few scoundrels to help. If I were to take action, they wouldn't have a chance to react."

The repairman gasped. It sounded like he was showing off, but his demeanor combined with the words made it seem like he was telling the truth.

In any case, Zhang Yangqing solved the problem and demonstrated his ability and "connections," which made the repairman behave accordingly.

He went into the lounge, squatted down, and stripped his clothes off the rebellious youth.

He frowned as he noticed bloodstains on his work clothes, then folded them neatly and stuffed them into a bag.

Taking this opportunity, Zhang Yangqing asked, "Do you know where the butler is?" (End of Chapter)