"You say you love me, yet you hit me that hard. I think you just wanted to beat me up because I embarrassed you earlier..."
Tony tore off a corner of his sleeve, rolled it into a strip, and stuffed it into his endlessly bleeding nostril. Afraid of getting hit again, he lowered his head and muttered under his breath.
"What are you mumbling about?"
"I was praising you for being young, handsome, and well-built. You're not only rich, but you also have a great son!"
"Heh, did you think I didn't hear that?"
Howard scoffed. His senses were sharp enough that he had heard every word clearly. He said earnestly to Tony, "Some things are hard for me to say, and I can't even mention them. But I believe that when you look back on today many years from now, you'll be incredibly grateful to me. You'll even say I did well—that I should've beaten you half to death."
"Am I really that much of a masochist?"
Tony covered his face and complained, "You actually hit me. You even messed up my face."
"It's nothing. When I have time, I'll get you some serums. A couple of shots and you'll be fine."
"Will I get physical abilities at the peak of human potential like yours?"
"Tony, why didn't you just ask about physical fitness? Why put it so delicately?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Then let me put it simply. When I fought underground matches, I started with five at a time."
"Dad, I'll leave the serum to you. In my next life, I'll still be your son."
"That beating just now..."
"I fell down myself."
Father and son instantly reached an understanding. Perhaps their ways of thinking were simply too similar; before long, they had become