Upon hearing the words "prophet," Wen Jinglong instantly wilted like a frostbitten eggplant.
He even secretly planned to go and inform on them.
Lu Ziming sneered: "Predicting the future isn't a passive skill. He can't predict it all the time; he can only predict it when he needs to."
Moreover, such an extraordinary ability to foresee the future must come at a tremendous cost, and he certainly wouldn't easily predict the future unless it's a critical moment.
I admit I'm taking a gamble, but this time I'm betting he didn't foresee it!
"What if we lose the bet? Wouldn't we be doomed to die?"
"Hmph! Look at how timid and hesitant you are. Are you just going to accept your fate because the future is predetermined? Are you just waiting to die because he foresaw it?"
There's no such thing as destiny; I only believe in human will! Even if he really knows our plan, so what? We'll fight him! You want to sit and wait to die?
I'd rather make a mistake than do nothing!
Lu Ziming's resounding words completely moved the two of them.
To be able to reach the fifth rank in a burial ground, these individuals were certainly not ordinary people. In order to survive, they were willing to kneel down and beg for mercy, weeping bitterly.
Similarly, in order to survive, they also have the courage to fight to the death, and the ruthlessness and madness to become desperate.
Several hours later.
The group gathered at the pawnshop again, lining up to exchange their money for ghost money.
Yang Ming looked at the ever-increasing amount of money on the counter, his eyes filled with excitement.
At that moment, he had a lit straw in his mouth.
"Brother Hugh, is that enough for a hundred million?" he asked excitedly.
Fang Xiu nodded calmly: "One hundred and five hundred thousand."
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