The Black-faced Yama suddenly appeared in front of Meng Po, a smile on his face.
"What do you mean by that?"
Fuming, Meng Po drank another cup of Meng Po Soup and leaned back against the wide chairback, showing no intention of pouring a cup for the other party.
Meng Yong, standing to the side, fetched the teapot and poured tea for King Yama, guiding him to sit nearby, then respectfully retreated behind the screen inside the room.
King Yama took a sip of tea and cheerfully said, "The situation is indeed critical, and we had no choice but to resort to this last-ditch effort. I hope Meng Po can forgive us."
"How critical?"
Meng Po pursued relentlessly, her complexion visibly displeased.
"Did the batch you guys rushed last time all die out?"
"To be precise, it's that the follow-up is not keeping up," King Yama's eyes were indifferent, and his tone turned slightly cold, "Whether you agree or not, we can't keep coddling them like before, time is of the essence."
