ust be Zheng Jinbao's fault. He, a man nearly sixty years old, lowered his posture to speak to Fu Mochen, who was in his thirties. If Fu Mochen still cared about this and held a grudge, it would only... the collar of Gu Chen's chest."What are you doing" Gu Chen's face tightened suddenly, his voice turning colder. His limbs were weak and powerless to stop Hou Shao's actions. In two or three moves, t...