bestfiction Chapter 119 Going to see Jing Sheng in person
Chapter 119 Going to see Jing Sheng in person
“Everyone else is dead, it’s terrifying! And… most importantly, the entire Jing family has been ransacked by those ruthless people! They seem to be desperately searching for something of vital importance…” Mingyi frowned deeply, recalling the horrific scene from just now, and couldn’t help but shudder.
When Mingyi rushed to the scene, the group of vicious thugs had already stormed into the Jing family's gate.
To avoid arousing their suspicion and attention, Ming only dared to hide far away and observe, not daring to step into the Jing family's house.
By then, the Jing family had been completely ransacked, and all their valuables had been taken away.
The remaining people continued to search through the rooms, leaving no corner untouched as to whether treasure might be hidden.
Not only that, they also went so far as to stab the corpses lying in pools of blood a few more times, as if afraid of missing even one living person who was still breathing.
At this moment, Murong Qian gently placed his hands on the old wooden table, his gaze deep and solemn.
He knew perfectly well what this group's purpose was—they simply wanted to find that mysterious list.
However, no one knows where this list is hidden.
The only person who could possibly know his whereabouts is Jing Sheng, the head of the Jing family.
But given Jing Sheng's shrewdness and cunning, how could he easily hand over such an important list?
Without a doubt, he will rack his brains to make good use of this list in order to gain a chance for his own survival!
Murong Qian's gaze slowly shifted to the blood-stained garment from before, and she wondered to herself whether this blood-stained garment could be a sufficient bargaining chip.
He waved his hand slightly, signaling Mingyi to leave, then casually waved his hand again, summoning several of his men, and said in a deep voice, "Come with me!"
Murong Qian was determined to go to the gloomy and terrifying prison himself, because he knew that Jing Sheng would surely die this time.
After all, the people of the world are paying close attention to this matter, and if he is not severely punished, it will be difficult to appease public anger.
However, whether the Jing family bloodline can survive in the world depends on what choice Jing Sheng himself will make.
After making some preparations, Murong Qian changed into a brand new set of clothes.
He put on a mask made of fine black gold, completely concealing his face.
He was wearing a satin coat that was as black as ink, but the sleeves were cleverly embroidered with delicate irises in blue silk thread.
If Yun Juan were here now, she would definitely recognize at a glance that these flowers are remarkably similar to the hairpin she wears in her hair!
Not only are they identical in shape, but their colors are also exactly the same!
When Murong Qian inadvertently caught a glimpse of the exquisite iris pattern on his sleeve, a tender, gentle expression involuntarily appeared on his face, which was hidden by the mask.
Strangely enough, he could no longer remember what his connection with this flower was, but deep in his heart he always remembered one thing—this flower was of great importance to him, so important that even a fleeting glance could cause ripples in his heart.
When Murong Qian stepped into the dark, damp, and stinking prison, she saw Jing Sheng sitting there quietly, eyes closed, meditating.
As if he had anticipated his arrival, he showed no surprise whatsoever, not even lifting his eyelids, as if he had already seen through everything.
At this moment, when people should be drifting off to sleep, Jing Sheng sat there without any sign of sleepiness, clearly waiting for someone to appear.
Murong Qian couldn't help but wonder what it was that made him so devoted to serving that person.
Before Murong Qian could speak, Jing Sheng's deep and magnetic voice rang out: "You've arrived a little later than I expected!"
As he spoke, he kept his eyes closed, as if he could tell who it was just by their voices.
Murong Qian stared at the man before her. Although he was filthy and his clothes were tattered and stained with various dirt and bloodstains, his innate noble temperament could not be concealed.
This unique temperament is not something one is born with, but rather something one develops through years of experience and refinement in officialdom.
Murong Qian had to admit to herself that the person in front of her was indeed exceptionally intelligent.
Both his keen insight and unfathomable cunning are far beyond the reach of ordinary people.
However, it is truly regrettable that such a talented person is now imprisoned.
If he were to use his intelligence elsewhere, he would surely achieve great things.
It's such a pity! They chose the wrong master.
You must understand that the master's heart was like a bottomless pit, which could never be filled, and his greed was beyond imagination.
As the saying goes, "greed knows no bounds," such excessive desires and greed will only lead them down the path of destruction.
This unfortunate choice not only brought it endless pain and suffering, but may also affect the fate of many more innocent people.
How pathetic and lamentable!
"Do you know who I am?" Murong Qian parted her lips slightly, but the voice that came out was completely different from his usual one.
It turned out that he had taken a voice-changing pill beforehand. This magical pill had already changed his originally bright and clear voice, making it low and hoarse, as if it came from the underworld.
Just as Murong Qian finished speaking, Jing Sheng, who had been sitting upright in his chair with his head bowed as if he were asleep, finally slowly raised his heavy eyelids.
He glanced at Murong Qian casually with his bloodshot eyes, then closed them again as if he had lost his support, returning to his previous listless state.
However, despite Jing Sheng's seemingly dejected appearance, his tone was unusually firm when he spoke: "I don't know him! But... I do know someone will be coming!"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable certainty, as if he had a premonition of what was about to happen, and even knew his own ultimate fate.
He was leaning leisurely against the corner of the wall, a withered straw casually dangling from his mouth, the straw swaying up and down with the slight movement of his lips.
Just then, a scurrying little mouse quickly crawled up his trouser leg and onto his thigh. Surprisingly, he didn't react at all, not even lifting his eyelids.
It was as if the mouse was nothing more than an insignificant breeze, unable to stir even the slightest ripple in his heart.
Perhaps it was because he was already used to such scenes, or perhaps he was so engrossed in his own thoughts that all external distractions were automatically blocked out.