Lian Zhou and his men escorted Han Tong away, and the farther they went, the more intense Han Tong's unease became.
After a tense journey, the moment he saw the familiar alley entrance, Han Tong's eyes flew wide open!
The Han manor!
His former manor—how had it become a pile of ruins!?
More importantly, the streets and alleys were filled with soldiers standing guard, on high alert!
Han Tong's gaze swept past the crowd and finally landed on a tall, upright figure. His heart felt as if it had been seized in a tight grip.
'Shen Yanchuan, what in the world is he planning?'
Before he could sort out his thoughts, Lian Zhou and his men shoved him forward.
"Master, the man has been brought back."
Shen Yanchuan turned, his deep-set eyes brimming with an icy chill.
Han Tong met that indifferent gaze and couldn't help but shudder.
"Prince-Princely Heir?"
Shen Yanchuan ignored him, his gaze returning to the house. His voice was as cold and crisp as the clink of jade.
