Liam's fist slammed into Sian's stomach.
The impact was solid, a dull yet heavy sound echoing in the tense silence. Sian's body bent slightly, absorbing the force like a blade of grass swaying under a storm.
But that was it.
No screams. No cries of pain. Just an eerie stillness that seemed almost defiant.
"You—bastard! Stop!"
Lan Qisheng struggled violently against his restraints, the leather cutting into his skin as his muscles tensed with rage. His eyes burned with unfiltered fury, a deep, visceral hatred threatening to consume him.
He wanted to rip Liam apart.
How dare that scumbag lay a finger on his beloved? How dare he strike him like this?
Blood. Lan Qisheng wanted Liam's blood.
But no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free. The soldiers around him weren't faring any better. They had tensed the moment Liam approached Sian, their hands twitching as if their bodies refused to accept their helplessness.
