Zhao Jianghong felt as if he were in an ice cellar, his whole body rigid with cold, his mind racing over how he might salvage the situation.
"Mr. Feng, what do you think should be done about this?" He tentatively broached the subject, seeking Feng Ye's opinion.
"What should be done?" Feng Ye's lips curled in a bloodthirsty, cold smile as he turned to Yun Yue, "I'll take you to the hospital first. Leave this matter to me."
Yun Yue stood up, stepping over the bodies on the ground, her eyes shimmering redly with a predatory chill. Her expression was cold and wickedly unrestrained as she carelessly walked out, with people involuntarily making way for her.
Yun Huaqin blocked her path, "You can't go. You want compensation, we will give it to you. Besides, you already had an injury on your hand. Name your price—how much will it take for you to let bygones be bygones?"
