C644 The Fragrant Medicinal Fragrance

Zhao Mingyu set his phone down, his face a portrait of defeat, his eyes brimming with hopelessness. He could already picture Zhao Yang's fury upon seeing him, the beating that would surely follow.

"Young Master Zhao? Did the patriarch say anything?" a cautious voice inquired from behind Zhao Mingyu.

With a ghastly pallor, Zhao Mingyu glanced at his other, still intact leg and uttered in despair