Chapter 95 Our Affairs



Before we had gone a third of the way, a large tree blocking our path blocked our way.

When they arrived, all the trees along the road had been cleared away, but now a tree had appeared out of nowhere to block their way... Zuo Ling sneered.

Professor Jin also thought of this, and his expression turned very unpleasant.

Zuo Ling said to Professor Jin, "Please don't get out of the car, wait inside."

I took the bulletproof helmet out of my backpack, put it on, and placed the waterfall on my seat.

The waterfall wouldn't dry up, and it clung to Zuo Ling, refusing to let go.

"Don't be afraid, stay in the car, I'll be back in a bit."

Regardless of whether the waterfall wanted it or not, Zuo Ling forced it onto Professor Jin.

Four burly men emerged from all sides.

Two of them carried knives, and two carried sticks, their faces full of arrogance.

Zuo Ling got off the bus.

Although Professor Jin is getting on in years, he is still a grown man, and he felt somewhat uncomfortable having a young woman take the lead in the face of danger.

As they were pondering how to help Zuo Ling, they saw the four of them fall to the ground.

Professor Jin blinked, then blinked again, rubbed his eyes, then rubbed them again. Was he seeing things?

The four of them seemed to be bound by something, writhing on the snow like worms, cursing under their breath.

Zuo Ling applied the stun gun to each of them, and gave the ones with the sharp tongues a couple more stuns.

The four of them became obedient and well-behaved, letting Zuo Ling do as she pleased.

They pulled back the binding rope, stripped off all their outer clothes, gloves, hats, and shoes, and then picked up the four of them and threw them into the snowdrift.

He threw the clothes he had taken off in the opposite direction, clapped his hands, moved the tree aside, and returned to his car as if nothing had happened.

After walking quite a distance, Professor Jin finally found his voice and stammered:

"You...you...don't worry, don't worry, I, I...won't...tell it to anyone."

Zuo Ling glanced at him:

"What do you mean 'don't worry'? I'll tell everyone. If they don't walk properly and fall in the snow, what does that have to do with me?"

Professor Jin: "..."

"Yes, yes, yes, it's their own fault for not walking properly, it's none of our business."

The simple phrase "it's our business" brought them closer together.

If Professor Jin says it's 'none of your business,' Zuo Ling will never associate with Professor Jin's family again.

With more than half an hour's drive from the city, the wheels made a screech, the car spun halfway, and with the trailer attached behind it, it was unsupported and almost tipped over.

MD, nail rolling board!

Seven or eight burly men roared and charged out from all directions.

Having just escaped death, Zuo Ling's temper flared. She pulled out a small crossbow from her backpack, opened the car window, and fired a series of shots.

She doesn't hit vital points, she only targets the arms and legs.

After several rounds of firing, screams of agony filled the air.

Two men, seeing the situation was not good, turned to run, but it was too late. Zuo Ling then repaired the nails one by one.

Professor Jin had never seen anything like this before and was trembling with fear.

Zuo Ling got out of the car, setting up the crossbow.

The leather boots crunched and squeaked on the snow.

She walked slowly, swaying with every step, exuding the air of a female gangster boss.

The group that was just moments ago so arrogant and domineering were now crying and sniffling.

"Young lady, we were blind to your greatness and offended you. Please forgive us."

"Young lady, we were wrong. We were blinded by greed. We apologize to you. Please be merciful and forgive us this time."

"Girl, our house collapsed, we can't make a living, and we were forced to do evil. If we could have survived, we wouldn't have come out. Please have mercy and let us go."

"..."

They all had their reasons, and they were all very smooth talkers, almost spouting the old-fashioned excuse about having an eighty-year-old mother to support and a crying baby to feed.

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