Chapter 392 The Twisted Master Wang

• Hong Shaokang was one of the top dogs in Tashan City. No way he’d let someone else take his seat. Whoever could make him bow like that had to be a real heavyweight.
• The boss chair was occupied by an elderly man in his sixties, dressed in coarse linen. His loose sleeves were frayed and split at the seams—clearly an old, long-worn shirt. His matching pants were rolled up, and on his feet were black army-style shoes.
• He was wiry and lean, skin rough and sun-darkened, with a beard a full three inches long. His aged face was mapped with wrinkles, and dirt clung in the creases.