When the Grandmaster was enraged, the temperature in the hospital room seemed to drop several degrees.
An oppressive silence descended upon the room, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the machines, tapping against everyone's taut nerves.
The madness and threat of Creation Technology.
Once again, so blatantly, bloodily laid before everyone, so heavy it was suffocating.
At that moment, Lin Kang's gaze turned to Fang Qingyu, carrying an undeniable meaning: "Qingzi."
Fang Qingyu looked up at him.
"Tomorrow," Lin Kang's voice was low, yet clear and forceful, "for the mourning and promotion ceremony, you will push me down."
Fang Qingyu was slightly startled.
Push him down?
This is usually done by someone very close or dear.
He instinctively wanted to speak, suggesting Duan would be more suitable...
