Leaving in a bedraggled and dispirited state, Iron Can’s mouth was full of bitterness. He finally understood that his father had always been rather dissatisfied with his performance.
It’d even reached the point where he wouldn’t hesitate to take action against his own flesh and blood!
Iron Can’s entire back was soaked through with sweat, and his head had beads of cold perspiration.
He’d always felt that as his father’s only surviving son, he was the beloved son of the heavens and it was natural that he could do what he wanted within and outside of the sect.
And he’s always done so as well.
Iron Long usually kept one eye shut with regards to all the random crap he committed and endured them usually.
But this time, he’d created one heck of a mess.
Particularly in involving Iron Dazhi as well, no wonder Iron Long had been enraged.
It was a good thing that Iron Dazhi hadn’t died. If he had, Iron Can had no idea what his father would do to him.
