Yolanda Fern looked at Sylvan Cheney's face, her heart heavily oppressed.
She had underestimated Jasmine Yale's place in Sylvan Cheney's heart.
"Sylvan Cheney, since you're so protective of Jasmine Yale, I'll count to five. If you don't kneel by the count, watch your son die in front of you!" Yolanda Fern really had no energy to deal with him any longer.
Everyone drew in a cold breath.
"One."
"Two."
Yolanda Fern's voice was like a ghoulish specter, spreading through the large venue, piercing everyone's eardrums.
Sylvan Cheney's face changed drastically, his fists tightly clenched, his eyes filled with a murkiness and fragmentation he had not had for thirty years.
His body was somewhat stiff in the cold wind.
Yolanda Fern saw that Sylvan Cheney made absolutely no move to call, she sneered: "Three."
"Let go of Little Chale, I'll take his place."
Suddenly——
A flustered, urgent voice came, distant yet persistent and calm.
