Huo Xingzhou pressed his lips tightly together and raised his hand to deliver another harsh slap.
The exposed skin of Xiang Huai was torn open, swelling up red and puffy. The delicate scion of the Imperial Capital couldn't withstand such whipping.
Humiliation, misery.
It's always a father who beats his son with a belt.
He lay on the ground, beaten by Huo Xingzhou like a dog.
Huo Xingzhou's eyes held a distant look as he momentarily stopped. He nonchalantly lowered his gaze and slowly took off his suit jacket, tossing it to Mr. Zhou, who was enjoying the spectacle, then leisurely began to unfasten the cuffs of his white shirt.
Xiang Huai lay on the bathroom tiles, his face bruised, gasping for air, and yelled, "You hit me, but I won't let this go easily! Ha, keep hitting me, why don't you dare? If you can, just beat me to death!"
Huo Xingzhou lifted his eyelids slowly and glanced at him with disdain, saying, "Alright."
