"I say, Yu Family's President, have you forgotten that your life was narrowly saved?"
"Each injury depletes your vitality."
"Put more gravely, it shortens your lifespan."
Jiu Yi's complexion turned ashen, his anger intensifying with each word, "Yu Chiyin, tell me honestly, are you seeking death?!"
"..."
The atmosphere turned tense, and no one responded.
Then in the next second, Yu Chiyin, with his injured upper body bare, silently stood up and walked to the desk, pressing the intercom:
"Secretary Li, come in and see the guest out."
"Alright," the secretary's efficient voice responded.
After Yu Chiyin had spoken and turned around, he suddenly felt the room spin violently.
His tall and robust body staggered, then thudded as his body hit the desk, his large hand instinctively bracing against it to steady himself.
But he couldn't steady himself at all.
Yu Chiyin's legs went limp, his vision darkening again and again.
