In the hallway of Jiang Wei's apartment, Jiang Muwan and the aunt silently confronted each other.
Logically speaking, she, a young and strong youth, who is also a junior and under the roof of another, must not be too arrogant, nor fail to give the host family face.
But this day, her cultivation, reason, and all that damned nonsense about saving face vanished without a trace.
Looking at the person in front of her reminded her of that dead old thing, and the hatred that should have been buried was now spreading from the depths of her chest, like a seed she had planted, sprouting and stretching out its shoots.
Like a soaked sponge, it expanded without limit.
