chapter 296 I, the weasel, named Rongruo!

Weasel considered himself a cultured person.
At least, that's what he believed.
He always felt that in his past life, he was the poetry master. Someone from the gentle school of poets with a touch of melancholy.
Thinking this, Weasel suddenly felt less afraid. To someone from the gentle school, death was just another shade of sorrow.
"Listen up, kid."
Weasel slowly sat down, spat in the palm of his hand, rubbed it vigorously, then combed back his perpetually shiny middle-parted hairstyle.
"You...