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Da Shewan was seething with rage as he kicked Grandpa to the ground. Grandpa fell helplessly onto the floor, his body covered in ants and food scraps. Da Shewan mercilessly stomped on Grandpa's chest, a cruel glint flashing in his eyes.
"You old fool, you live just to torment me!" Da Shewan spat, increasing the pressure of his foot as if he intended to crush Grandpa's ribcage. Grandpa groaned in pain, unable to utter a single cry for help.
Suddenly, Da Shewan stopped. He looked down at Grandpa beneath him, an inexplicable sense of powerlessness washing over him. After all these years of torment and abuse, Grandpa was still alive, still resilient. Over time, he realized that the one truly being played with was himself.
"This is just too boring," Da Shewan muttered to himself, the light in his eyes dimming. He lifted his foot off Grandpa, allowing him a moment to breathe. Grandpa lay there weakly, despair and pain evident in his gaze.
Da Shewan's heart was filled with conflict and anguish. He hated Grandpa, loathed his very existence, yet he could not truly free himself from this hatred. Each time he tormented Grandpa seemed to twist and torment him as well. This inescapable pain only warped and drove him further into madness.
"When will you finally die?" Da Shewan cursed under his breath, filled with helplessness and despair. He knew he could never truly escape this hatred; he could only continue this endless game of torment.
Da Shewan shouted in fury as he violently shook Grandpa by the shoulders. Grandpa felt dizzy, like a small boat caught in a storm, unable to steer itself. Faced with Da Shewan's questions, he too wanted to know the answer. He wished to escape this torment; it seemed that only death could fulfill such a desire.
"When will you finally die?!" Da Shewan's voice pierced through the air, laden with uncontrollable anger and despair. His fingers dug deep into Grandpa's shoulders as if trying to crush him. Grandpa struggled weakly, his eyes filled with helplessness and despair.
"You old fool, society doesn't need worthless people like you!" Da Shewan's words were like sharp knives stabbing into Grandpa's heart repeatedly. Each statement was filled with denial of Grandpa's existence and relentless attacks on his worth.
"What can you do besides drag me down? What meaning does your life have? You are nothing but a burden on society!" Da Shewan's voice grew increasingly intense, fueled by uncontrollable rage. His grip tightened as if he intended to crush Grandpa's shoulders.
Grandpa groaned in pain, passively accepting it all. He knew he could not resist this mad grandson; he could only endure the suffering and humiliation in silence. Deep despair shone in his eyes as his heart yearned for death.
"Do you think this will make me give up?" Da Shewan said viciously, a twisted smile on his face. He knew he had complete control over Grandpa's fate; with just a little more pressure, he could utterly shatter his will.
Da Shewan was consumed by rage, his eyes gleaming with a mad light as he viciously gripped Grandpa's throat. Grandpa's breath was instantly cut off, and his hands struggled weakly, filled with terror and despair.
"You old bastard!" Da Shewan cursed the old man repeatedly, his voice brimming with uncontrollable anger and disgust. He tightened his grip on Grandpa's neck as if he intended to crush him entirely. Grandpa's face grew pale, and he let out painful groans.
Da Shewan loathed such powerless and weak beings. Grandpa's helplessness and fragility only fueled his anger and deep-seated revulsion. Da Shewan felt that certain traits in Grandpa reminded him of his past self, evoking memories of his own weakness and incompetence. If it weren't for the platform of YouTube, he might still be languishing in Pingtung, living a life devoid of hope.
"Do you even know how disgusting you are?! A worthless piece of trash like you shouldn't even exist in this world!" Da Shewan shouted madly, increasing the pressure of his grip. Grandpa's breathing became increasingly labored, his complexion growing ever more ashen. Da Shewan's fingers dug deeply into Grandpa's neck, as if he were trying to crush his bones.
Grandpa struggled feebly, the light in his eyes dimming gradually. He knew he could not escape the demon's grasp and could only silently endure this pain and humiliation. His breathing became more difficult, feeling as though his life was slipping away.
Da Shewan's laughter echoed in the room like a sharp knife stabbing deep into Grandpa's heart. He felt immense satisfaction and delight; this was the only joy he could experience. Da Shewan's mind was filled with distortion and madness; he knew he could not free himself from this hatred but could only continue this endless game of torment.
Grandpa's struggles grew weaker, the light in his eyes fading away. Da Shewan looked at the increasingly powerless old man beneath him, filled with a sense of triumph.
Grandpa began to thrash about desperately, his limbs flailing weakly in an attempt to break free from Da Shewan's grip. However, his struggles seemed utterly futile, like a fly caught in a spider's web, unable to escape no matter how hard it tried.
Da Shewan tightened his grip even further, squeezing Grandpa's neck as if he intended to crush him completely. His gaze became increasingly deranged as he muttered curses under his breath, as if such invectives would hasten Grandpa’s demise.
"You old bastard, die! Die! Just die already!!" Da Shewan’s voice was filled with rage and hatred; his curses were like daggers piercing Grandpa’s heart. Grandpa’s complexion continued to pale, his gaze becoming vacant, and his breathing grew ever more labored.
Grandpa’s consciousness began to fade; he felt his life slipping away. The world before him blurred into obscurity as if everything was drifting away from him. His limbs gradually ceased their struggle, hanging limply as if surrendering all hope.
Da Shewan watched as Grandpa’s struggles weakened further, filled with delight and satisfaction. His fingers sank deeply into Grandpa’s neck, feeling that fragile life force dissipating under his control. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of fulfillment; it was the only joy he could truly feel.
"You worthless piece of trash, are you finally going to die?" Da Shewan muttered, his eyes gleaming with a mad light. He knew he had completely seized control over Grandpa's fate; no matter how much he struggled, there was no escaping this pain and humiliation. Grandpa's gaze grew dimmer, as if he could already see the arrival of death.
Da Shewan's laughter echoed in the room, filled with cruelty and madness. He felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, the only joy he could experience. He understood that he could not free himself from this hatred; he could only continue this endless game of torment. Grandpa's life force gradually faded under his control, as if everything was heading toward its conclusion.
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