He Qian suffered a brutal beating, his flesh enduring pain, his spirit crushed.
He regretted it—two shots of cat piss and he started feeling invincible.
In the end, He Qian's face swelled up like a pig's head, his words slurred and incoherent. Yet he stubbornly gestured in Xu Si's direction.
Xu Si understood: he was signaling to call 110 and report to the police.
The woman in black glanced over at him.
Xu Si, overwhelmed by his survival instincts, didn't dare overthink. He immediately raised both hands to show her he hadn't done anything.
"You… you're doomed."
After flaunting his "wisdom and prowess" in front of the younger generation, he hadn't lasted five minutes before a woman fiercely humiliated him, losing both face and dignity.
At this moment, He Qian wanted nothing more than to flay and disembowel this woman.
It was his oversight—he hadn't brought his bodyguards along. If Xiao Long were here, ten of these women wouldn't be enough to stop him.
