From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

Zhu Hong just stood there silently.

Seeing that he remained silent, Jiang Feng grew even more smug. Chewing on his meat, he mumbled, "Let me tell you, it's too late to curry favor now. However," he pointed his chopsticks at Zhu Hong, a playful smile playing on his lips, "..."

If you know what's good for you.

"Hurry up and release me, or I might just let it all go in a good mood."

Zhu Hong remained silent.

Jiang Feng rambled on and on, but seeing that Zhu Hong didn't respond, he suddenly felt bored.

He put down his chopsticks and frowned.

"Do you have any alcohol?"

Zhu Hong then spoke: "Bring the wine."

As soon as he finished speaking, the two hangers-on behind him hurriedly brought out a small celadon jar from the bottom of the food box.

Jiang Feng picked up the porcelain bottle, uncorked it, and a rich aroma of wine immediately filled the air.

"This is... Drunken Li Bai?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes shining brightly.

"how?"

Zhu Hong said calmly, "It's a tribute brewed in Xinghuawu."

How can you know if you don't drink it?

Upon hearing this, Jiang Feng's eyes lit up.

The Drunken Master Bai only brews twenty or thirty jars a year, all of which are offered to the prefectural and yamen officials. Even if one has the money, it is difficult to obtain a single jar outside the region.

He tilted his head back and took a big gulp.

"Good wine!"

"Truly worthy of being called the Drunken Li Bai."

The wine went down my throat, initially feeling cool and refreshing, but in an instant it turned into a raging fire, burning my chest and abdomen like fire, and making my limbs feel weak.

Jiang Feng let out a "ha" sound, exhaling a breath of alcohol, and said:

"Zhu Hong, you are a detestable person."

today,

"But things weren't handled badly." As he spoke, he picked up a piece of beef, ate it with his wine, and after enjoying it for a while, he suddenly smiled sinisterly: "Once I leave this yamen, I will tell my father that your matter can be dropped. However..." He paused, his smile deepening, but a ruthless glint appeared in his eyes.

"That Lin Jizhi must be handed over to me for disposal."

What kind of person is he?

"How dare he disrespect me, young master! He must know clearly what the consequences will be for offending the Jiang family!"

Ever since I was imprisoned.

Although Jiang Feng was a prisoner, he was still the young master of the Jiang family.

Unexpectedly, Lin Jizhi, a mere constable, was adept at judging people by their status. Seeing that Jiang was temporarily unable to help, he took advantage of his position to "take care" of her from time to time. The food he brought was either cold or spoiled, and his bedding was damp and moldy, which he refused to change. At night, the chains were tightened even more, supposedly to "prevent her from escaping."

Jiang Feng cursed a few times once.

Lin Jizhi, with a grin, carried a bucket of cold water and poured it over himself from head to toe, saying:

"Let's calm the young master down."

Poor Jiang Feng, who had been pampered since childhood, had never suffered such humiliation.

Every time he thought about it, he felt a burning hatred that made his teeth itch. Now, seeing his own clan exerting their power, how could he tolerate such malice? "I'll make you pay!" he muttered, chewing the beef with hatred, as if he were chewing on Lin Jizhi's bones.

Zhu Hong showed no emotion, nor did he utter a single word.

"You used to be quite the smooth talker," Jiang Feng mumbled, his tongue slurring as he drank. "Now, I can't even speak properly." He then let out a burp, leaned against the wall, and patted his stomach.

"have to.

Putting aside the digressions, let's get down to business: when are you going to release them?

Zhu Hong then spoke, "Have you eaten your fill?" His voice was unhurried, as if he were asking about something trivial. As he spoke, he walked around the food table and strolled step by step to Jiang Feng, his boots making a soft "rustling" sound as they stepped on the damp straw.

When we arrived at the station.

Zhu Hong lowered his eyes, and his gaze unconsciously turned cold.

"Jiang Feng".

He paused, his voice low but deliberate: "This meal is called the last meal before death."

"Farewell...last meal?"

Jiang Feng raised his head, his eyes glazed with drunkenness.

Zhu Hong turned around and waved slightly to his two lackeys. They exchanged a glance, bowed in acknowledgment, and quietly retreated.

"Clang!"

The iron gate immediately tightened.

The prison cell suddenly became eerily quiet, with only the crackling of the oil lamps burning on the wall, occasionally letting out a few faint flickering flames.

"Zhu, Zhu Hong..."

Jiang Feng suddenly felt something was wrong. The slight intoxication he had felt earlier vanished instantly due to the deathly silence.

He choked slightly, and asked in a trembling voice:

What are you trying to do? Are you crazy?!

When the words left his mouth, his tone was weak and trembling. He was panicking, afraid that what he had just said, "last meal before execution," was not a joke at all.

"Oh."

Zhu Hong glared at him coldly and reached for his waist.

"Sizzle—"

The blade and the copper band at the scabbard's opening were gently rubbed together, producing a lingering sound.

"You, you wouldn't dare."

Jiang Feng's pupils constricted sharply. He desperately tried to burrow back, wishing he could embed himself into the wall: "My father won't let you get away with this, and the Jiang family will certainly not let you get away with this either. Even if you kill me, the authorities won't be able to protect you. Are you crazy?!"

Zhu Hong simply gripped the knife tightly and smiled slightly.

What happened next.

"It's not up to Young Master Feng to worry about this." With that, he stopped in front of Jiang Feng, looking down at him.

Raise the knife.

"No……!"

Jiang Feng had nowhere to retreat or escape. Even if he screamed to the heavens, there was no response in the deep, dark prison alley.

The firelight reflected off the blade, its cold gleam trembling wildly.

In his panic.

"puff."

Zhu Hong's raised blade eventually fell, striking him squarely on the back of the neck.

"Well……"

Jiang Feng groaned and collapsed to the ground like a dead dog, unconscious.

……

I don't know how long I was unconscious.

He was jolted back to his senses by a sharp pain. "I'm not... I'm not dead?" He opened his eyes groggily. He was still in that narrow cell, with damp stone walls hanging above him and sticky, cold straw beneath him.

Jiang Feng tried to turn over, but felt excruciating pain all over his body.

Looking down:

"Hiss~"

He gasped in shock.

He found himself lying face down in a pool of blood, his clothes torn to shreds and his body covered in knife wounds.

The wounds were crisscrossed, and the skin and flesh were turned outwards.

Blood continued to gush out, staining the half-foot-thick layer of straw beneath him crimson. He tried to cry out, but could only groan in pain.

Zhu Hong squatted to one side.

He held the black knife in his hand, its blade stained with blood, which dripped slowly down.

"woke up?"

He asked casually, in a normal tone, as if asking someone if they had eaten.

"The whispers of the devil."

Jiang Feng trembled, his eyes filled with fear. His lips trembled for a long time before he could utter a few words, barely forming a sentence: "What...what do you want...?"

"I'm not saying anything more, this is my last meal before I'm beheaded."

Zhu Hong, too lazy to waste words with him, reached out and turned him over, exposing his chest. Before Jiang Feng could react, he felt a chill on his chest.

The blade had already pressed against the flesh.

"Wait, wait!" he cried in panic. "Zhu Hong, spare me! You can have anything you want!"

"laugh."

The only response he received was a knife.

As the knife fell, a gash appeared, running from the left chest to the right rib, and blood immediately gushed out.

"ah!!"

Jiang Feng screamed in agony, the sound echoing through the empty prison. He desperately tried to break free and end this hellish ordeal, but Zhu Hong had his foot firmly planted on his lower back, as if nailed to the ground, and he couldn't move an inch.

"Don't move."

Zhu Hong said in a nonchalant tone: "If you go too far and slip, cut too deep, and the person dies, you can't blame me."

Please.

Please!

Seeing that he was about to use weapons again, Jiang Feng endured the pain, gritted his teeth, and used the little strength he had left to shout, "Everything, everything should be discussed!" When he spoke, he was already barely breathing.