"Kneel!" Shi Hao looked at Zhou Wenbao with an indifferent tone.
The voice wasn't loud, but to Zhou Wenbao's ears, it was filled with bone-chilling coldness that made his knees weaken involuntarily, and he knelt down.
"Do you admit your guilt?" Shi Hao said.
Admit what guilt?
Zhou Wenbao's face was full of confusion; where had he committed any crime? He was a descendant of the Zhou Family, and whatever he did was natural; how could he possibly be guilty?
Shi Hao gave a glance and said, "Over these years, how many women have you insulted?"
What did he mean by insult?
Zhou Wenbao's face showed disagreement; he was a descendant of the Zhou Family, and for those women to catch his eye was their honor, and if by any chance they bore the offspring of a dragon, it would be like a fish leaping through Dragon Gate, an utter transformation of their fortunes.
"Over these years, how many people have you killed?" Shi Hao asked again.
Killed?
