"Get lost! You damn bitch, why are you waving that ruined face around in front of me? Ugly freak, I don't need you playing the good person. Go die somewhere else."
Yue Qianchou's face blazed with fury. He kicked away the bucket Sister Furong had helped upright, then roared again, "Get lost!"
She trembled as she stood to one side. Her frail body curled slightly beneath her tattered clothes, and tears the size of soybeans rolled down both her lovely half-face and her frightening half-face. Yet she did not dare make a sound as she cried.
This was the first time since coming to this world that he had suffered such humiliation. Besides, his temper could indeed be as changeable as the weather. When no one provoked him, he was willing enough to play the turtle's grandson. But once enraged, let alone this pitiful Sister Furong, who was only at the Foundation Establishment Realm—even Wu Baoru, in the Nascent Soul Realm, had not escaped his curses back at the Qingguang Sect. Yan Shu of the Core Formation stage had been proof enough.
The more he looked at Furong's ruined face, the more hateful it seemed. He was in the heat of anger and did not care about the gap in cultivation between them, nor did he care whether he could beat Furong. Instead, he advanced step by step and cursed viciously, "Cry, cry, all you know how to do is cry! What are you crying for? Take a look at yourself, you dead half-yin half-yang face, ugly freak! The more you cry, the uglier you get. Go die!"
Poor Furong was forced back step by step until her back met the wall. Hearing how venomously he cursed her and how he would not even allow her to cry, she truly