Zhao Dong rolled on the ground and spat out another mouthful of blood. His qi and blood churned violently, and it felt as if all his internal organs were tumbling. Up on the second floor, Song Qingwan's tears fell silently as she ran down, rushing to support Zhao Dong.
Tu Longhu sneered coldly. "My policy of not hitting women only applies when they aren't getting in my way. If you don't leave now, don't blame me for taking action against you!"
Song Qingwan's face was pale. As if she hadn't heard him, she clutched Zhao Dong tightly in her arms and cried, "Zhao Dong, how are you?"
Looking at Song Qingwan's tear-streaked face, Zhao Dong extended a trembling hand to pinch her cheek and gave a faint, pale smile. "I'm alright, I can take it. Just stand back a little. I can still get up."
Pushing Song Qingwan away, Zhao Dong rubbed his chest and spat out a mouthful of stagnant blood. He glared at Tu Longhu and gritted his teeth hatefully. "Come at me again if you dare!"
