Duan Yanran's originally tear-stained, stunningly beautiful cheeks tensed when she saw the bloodshot eyes of Ling Tianyu—it was frighteningly chilling.
Looking at her father, Duan Yanqing, lying on the ground with a bloodied and bruised head, though he hadn't screamed out loud, his pain was visibly intense.
Duan Yanran dared not disobey, hastily retreating to the hospital bed, not daring to utter another word.
Ling Tianyu walked over to the bedside, took out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and tossed them onto the table. Glancing at the still-intact chair, he walked over and grasped it in his hands.
"Bang! Bang!"
With a strong grip from Ling Tianyu's hands, the chair broke into several pieces. Holding the longest piece of metal rod in his hand, he marched straight toward Duan Yanqing.