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A few people returned home, and Da Shewan wore a smile as he said, "I'm going to take care of Grandpa." As he walked toward Grandpa's room, a glint of malice flashed in his eyes, though his lips curled into a strange smile.
He paused, turned back to Haohao, and said meaningfully, "Haohao, tomorrow's itinerary will be even more exciting. Make sure you're ready." His voice was filled with implications that sent chills down the spine.
Then, he shot a fierce glare at Anthon, his eyes full of warnings and threats. But in the next moment, his face returned to its friendly demeanor, as if nothing had happened. The speed and naturalness of this transformation sent a shiver through Anthon.
Pig's Feet glanced at Anthon and nodded, his gaze seemingly conveying some kind of understanding. Then he silently turned and left Da Shewan's house to return to his own.
Anthon watched Da Shewan's retreating figure, filled with unease and anger. He knew that tomorrow's events would not be as simple as they appeared. He had to stay alert and be prepared for any potential danger. Haohao stood nearby, looking exhausted, with a hint of helplessness and pain in his eyes.
Da Shewan entered Grandpa's room with a tense smile on his face. He slowly closed the door behind him, turning around with a cold gaze while still wearing a slight grin. The room was filled with a strong odor of urine and the sour smell of rotting food. Seeing the bento box on the floor made Da Shewan's smile widen, though it carried an air of malice.
He approached Grandpa and spoke softly, "Grandpa, the bento I left here last night was meant for you... Why didn't you eat it?" His tone dripped with obvious mockery and threat.
Grandpa sat in his wheelchair, his frail body trembling as he looked weakly at Da Shewan. His lips quivered but could not form a complete sentence; all he could manage were muffled sounds filled with fear and helplessness.
Da Shewan's smile grew more cruel as he squatted down to pick up the bento from the floor. He sniffed the sour smell and grimaced in disgust before quickly replacing it with that wicked grin. He pushed the bento box in front of Grandpa, his eyes flashing with madness.
"You better eat it obediently; otherwise..." Da Shewan whispered menacingly. As he spoke, he forcefully patted Grandpa's bald head—a gesture that seemed affectionate but was laced with humiliation and violence.
Grandpa lowered his head weakly, a tear rolling down his cheek. He knew that Da Shewan's cruelty extended far beyond this moment, yet he felt powerless to resist, forced to endure this pain and humiliation in silence.
Watching Grandpa's helplessness filled Da Shewan with immense satisfaction and delight. He realized that this household was now entirely under his control, and he would stop at nothing to gain more power and wealth. With this thought in mind, Da Shewan's smile twisted into something even more deranged and frenzied.
Da Shewan casually pulled a chair and sat down in front of Grandpa. He reached out his strong hand and gripped Grandpa's frail hands tightly, his smile twisted and menacing.
"Grandpa... when are you going to transfer this house to me?" Da Shewan's voice was low and cold, filled with threats and malice. As he spoke, he laughed while squeezing Grandpa's hands, causing him to groan in pain.
Grandpa's hands trembled helplessly under Da Shewan's control, his face etched with agony and fear. His eyes were filled with despair, his lips quivering but unable to utter a word. Da Shewan's fingers clamped down on his wrist like iron pincers, each squeeze sending waves of excruciating pain through Grandpa.
"Am I not filial enough to you?" Da Shewan growled softly, his smile growing more sinister. A mad glint flickered in his eyes as he tightened his grip, as if he intended to crush Grandpa's bones.
Grandpa's groans became more pained and desperate; his body weakly struggled, trying to break free from Da Shewan's grasp, but those hands held him fast like iron claws, leaving him no chance of escape.
Watching Grandpa suffer brought Da Shewan immense satisfaction and pleasure. He knew he held the old man's fate in his hands; with just a bit more pressure, he could force him to yield and transfer the house to him.
Da Shewan then released Grandpa's hands, which were already bruised and swollen, hanging painfully over the armrest of the wheelchair. Seeing Grandpa's helplessness only made Da Shewan's smile more grotesque. Suddenly, he raised his hand and slapped Grandpa hard across the face.
"Are you still with us, old man?" Da Shewan said viciously, his tone dripping with mockery and cruelty. He watched as pain twisted Grandpa's face, a sickly delight flashing in his eyes.
The blow made Grandpa's head jerk violently to the side, a bright red handprint quickly appearing on his cheek. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as confusion and pain clouded his gaze, resembling a trapped tiger too weak to fight back, resigned to its fate.
Da Shewan was not finished; narrowing his eyes, he sneered at Grandpa. "Are you awake? Do you understand what I'm saying?" His tone was icy, laden with clear threats.
Then he swung again, this time with even greater force, slamming Grandpa’s head against the back of the chair. Another distinct handprint marked Grandpa’s face as pained groans echoed in the room. Da Shewan’s rough hands clutched Grandpa’s throat like a vice, choking him until he could barely breathe, leaving him struggling helplessly.
Laughter erupted from Da Shewan as he surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction, filled with a mad glee. He knew he had complete control over the old man's fate; with just a bit more pressure, he could utterly shatter his will.
"You better behave, or else..." Da Shewan threatened in a low voice, a cruel glint flickering in his eyes. He looked at Grandpa's helpless expression and felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure and satisfaction. He released his grip on Grandpa's neck, watching as the old man gasped for breath, his face pale, eyes filled with deep fear and despair.
"You stubborn old fool, after all these years, you're still so obstinate," Da Shewan sneered, extending his hand to stroke Grandpa's head. The gesture appeared gentle but was laced with humiliation and violence. Grandpa could only lower his head in defeat, enduring the pain and shame.
Da Shewan reveled in Grandpa's helplessness, feeling immense satisfaction and delight. He knew he had completely taken control of the old man's fate; with just a little more pressure, he could utterly crush his will, making him willingly transfer the house to him.
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