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Ran Bowen was a very cautious man. He divided the Qinglong Seal into two halves, keeping one half for himself, and the other, as she guessed, was given to someone he trusted very much. Despite being undercover for a year, Yu Jiang failed to get any information on this person.

Although everyone knew that Ran Bowen had no offspring, he actually had a marriage once. His wife was killed by his enemies when she was six months pregnant, and since then, Ran Bowen seemed to have become a different person, secretly plotting and recruiting soldiers, training assassins.

But according to Yu Jiang’s observations and guesses, Ran Bowen had a lover who bore him a child. To prevent the tragedy from repeating itself, he protected the lover and the child very well, and they remained hidden from the outside world, with even his close relatives being unaware.

The other half of the Qinglong Seal should be in the hands of Ran Bowen’s lover.

“Did your mother give you the other half of the Qinglong Seal?” asked Zheng Qing.

Ming Jing had become immune to this appellation, “She’s already dead, what do you think?”

Zheng Qing cursed through gritted teeth, “I’ll take Night Hawk’s skin off, pull out his tendons, and cut him up piece by piece one day to vent my anger.”

“There are different positions, and right or wrong doesn’t matter. His mistake was to deceive.”

A cold light suddenly burst in Ming Jing’s eyes, killing intent surging and disappearing in an instant, returning to calmness.

“So, what should we do now?”

Ming Jing’s eyes flickered, thinking back to the assassination attempt on An Zhitinglan last time.

Madam Jiang, what role did you play in the incident twelve years ago?

“Has Ran Tengxiao found any clues?”

Zheng Qing frowned: “I’m not very clear, I didn’t pay much attention to the Ran family and the Qinglong Association before. If I had known earlier, I would have collected more information about the Ran family, so as not to be completely blind now. ”

Ming Jing said, “No harm, just give me your disguise tools.”

Zheng Qing looked at her suspiciously, then reached into the trunk and pulled out a black duffle bag.

“It’s all in here, what are you going to do?”

Ming Jing unzipped the bag, revealing various tools, including wigs and a set of night clothes.

Ming Jing took out the tools and started skillfully putting on makeup in front of the mirror, applying foundation that transformed her fair skin into a dull yellow, instantly changing her aura.

Zheng Qing’s mouth grew wider and wider, finally able to fit an egg inside.

She put on a short wig, night clothes, and a cap with a duckbill.

A tall, reticent young man was born.

Zheng Qing incredulously looked at the young man in front of her, whose skin was a healthy wheat color, with sharp eyebrows, a high nose bridge, and bright, black eyes that were like the brightest star in the night sky. The face was the same, yet the feeling was completely different. The whole person had undergone a radical transformation, as if they had been reborn.

If she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, she would have found it hard to believe.

“Could this disguising skill be inherited?”

Ming Jing put on a mask, “Wait for me here.”

As she was about to leave the car, Zheng Qing suddenly grabbed her hand,

“Ming Jing, let me go, I have experience.”

Ming Jing looked back at her, her dark eyes flickering in the dim car, “I will avenge my own grudges personally.”

What surprised Zheng Qing even more was that her voice had changed too.

With those words, she opened the car door and disappeared into the night in a blink of an eye.

A suffocating silence filled the room, with a faint scent of blood lingering.

The man sat on a meditation cushion, one hand gently tapping on the table, the other swirling a wine glass, his handsome face bearing deeply chiseled, sharp features, like a sharp and intimidating sword.

On either side of him, a man stood silently, their heads bowed.

In front of the man lay a bloodied figure, his heaving chest indicating that he was still alive.

“Ten minutes have passed,” said the man leisurely, taking a sip of his wine.

Ye Jian drew out a dagger, squatted next to the bloody man, and cut off his right middle finger.

And only his thumb and index finger were left on his right hand. The man screamed in pain, his whole body convulsing.

“Just kill me, ” said the man in despair.

“No, no, no, I enjoy torturing people, watching them die a little bit at a time in despair. Don’t you find it interesting?

“You’re a freak…..”

The man frowned, “Annoying. Since you won’t talk, and I don’t want to listen, let’s cut off your tongue and take it back for soaking in wine..”