An Jiancheng's large fist smashed down on Zhou Shiran's head again. "So, you do know An Ning is my daughter. Since you know she's my daughter, why did you scheme to have me draw so much blood from her? Dare you say you weren't trying to use my hands to kill my own daughter? Huh?"
Zhou Shiran still shook her head. "No."
"You still dare to deny it." An Jiancheng lifted his foot and kicked Zhou Shiran hard.
Zhou Shiran's body flew out, and with a 'thud', her head hit the wall heavily.
Blood immediately flowed from her forehead, making her dizzy with pain. "Please... stop hitting me."
Looking at her injured state, An Jiancheng felt no pity, only resentment.
He stepped on her chest, not letting her move. "Do you think you're very pitiful now? Do you think I'm being cruel to you?"
Frightened, Zhou Shiran dared not speak. "No... no..."
