"I met a girl today," Yan Huan suddenly spoke. Old Master Lu grunted and did not respond, but Yan Huan knew that he was listening.
"Her leg was perfectly fine." She took a sip of water and continued, "However, she insisted on using a wheelchair. Grandpa, what do you think this type of woman seek? Are they just too lazy to move or are they begging for pity? Perhaps they are mentally ill?"
The guard beside him sneakily gave her a thumbs up. Miss Yan, you are the only one who is daring enough to insinuate something like this.
With a bang, Old Master Lu stood up. The wind he whipped up was filled with terror and imaginary swords, and these swords gathered into a cluster, all aimed at Yan Huan. If the swords were manifested themselves in reality, Yan Huan would have died at least ten times.
Yan Huan grasped the cup tightly; she just kept drinking the water. The vision in her eyes started to turn blurry.
