Mo Tingshen's eyes turned cold, "What did you call her?"
Mo Li held his breath in his mouth, feeling uncomfortably full.
The feeling of wanting to exert authority but not daring to retort at all was truly terrible.
"I warned you earlier, not to touch her, but you wouldn't listen—"
Mo Tingshen, with a cigarette in his mouth, took out a small handgun, slightly tilted his head, his dark gaze downward, pressed the gun body against his chin, and cocked it.
His voice was icy cold, "I spared you once three years ago, but it seems you haven't learned your lesson."
Suddenly, Mo Li stood up, subconsciously wanting to escape, but he couldn't muster any strength in his body, and just as he stood up, he heavily fell back into the chair.
"Mo Tingshen, what do you want to do, I'm your father, you, you dare!"
"Bang!"
Just one shot.
It pierced through Mo Li's left knee.
The pain followed, and the agony made Mo Li scream in panic.
"Mo Tingshen!"
"Bang!"
