Chapter 63: Wang Dalai Died?

Old Li was quivering with rage, clutching the withered grass seedlings in his hands as he pointed and cursed at Wang Dalai.

"You old fart, stop with your goddamn nonsense," he bellowed, "What if it was me who pulled up your herbs? Who dares to touch me, huh?"

Wang Dalai, with a cocky slant to his eyes, smacked Old Li across the face with an open hand.

The blow sent Old Li tumbling to the ground.

"Wang Dalai, are you even human? Old Li is almost seventy, how could you strike him like that?" the villagers urgently helped Old Li to his feet.

"It's exactly this old bastard I'm hitting, what about it?"

"Smack, smack, smack!"

Before Wang Dalai could finish his sentence, a figure dashed into the crowd, grabbed him by the collar, and, swinging left and right, slapped him a dozen times before stopping.

Wang Dalai's head kept lolling from side to side, and soon he was dizzy and seeing stars.

That chubby face of his swelled up like a pig's head.