Chapter 1109: Chapter 1109: It’s Not Pretension, It’s Grievance The elderly man in the wheelchair looked very haggard, with one hand hidden under the blanket, unable to conceal the pathological trembling. He Huatang had been suffering from a stroke for many years and hadn’t cared about worldly matters for a long time. If it weren’t for Rong Manli and Ah Qing disappearing one after the other, he wouldn’t have dragged his sickly body out to take charge. The impression between He Chen and He Huatang was essentially nonexistent. Since childhood, he knew that this father saw him as a burden. Even his birth brought disgrace to He Huatang, who implicitly allowed the family to bully and insult He Chen. The night was thick, with a crescent moon hanging high in the sky. The gazes of He Chen and He Huatang collided in the air through the silhouettes of several figures; the father and son hadn’t seen each other for a long time, and there was an air of alienation and indifference in their eyes. In an instant, He Huatang was pushed to the threshold of the ancestral hall, and he looked sternly at He Chen, “Where is my son, Ah Qing?” These few words are probably the best depiction of how language can hurt invisibly. He Chen was glad that after so many years of struggle, he had built an invulnerable defense. Otherwise, He Huatang’s few words would be enough to leave him utterly wounded. He Chen rolled his Adam’s apple, blew smoke into the air, and said, “Does your useless son need my supervision?” “He Chen.” He Huatang’s tone was slow, probably due to the aftereffects of his stroke, “The future head of the He Family is not for you to slander.” Compared to the irritable uncles, He Huatang remained composed and calm. Even sitting in a wheelchair, his proud demeanor and indifferent features didn’t show the slightest hint of weakness. In fact, of all the He family, the child who most resembled He Huatang was He Chen. Their eyebrows bore a seven to eight-point resemblance, with slender eyes and a chiseled profile; it is clear that He Huatang was once a handsome man of note in Parma. He Chen sneered, a hidden sarcasm flashing in the depths of his eyes, “The future head of the He Family, huh? No matter how grand a title you give him, it can’t hide the fact that he’s a waste.” “You are as annoying as ever.” He Huatang looked at him deeply, sighed softly after a while, and said, “Why don’t you just be straightforward, what do you really want? Name your terms, as long as it’s not excessive, I can consider meeting them.” He Chen pressed down on his thin lips, walked to the entrance with a cigarette in hand, and sat boldly on the threshold, “I want Rong Manli’s life, will you give it to me?” “He Chen, don’t be ungrateful.” He Huatang looked at He Chen with extreme disdain, his palm on the armrest slightly clenched, “She is not someone you can touch.” “Can’t touch, huh?” He Chen licked his lips, snorted frivolously and playfully, “Then let me show you whether I can or not.” As soon as he finished speaking, he gave Ah Yong a glance, and the latter immediately understood, taking out his phone and making a call, “Send Rong Manli to the He family.” “Wait.” He Chen propped his chin with one hand, giving a wicked smile as he ordered, “First, send over an arm.” He Huatang suddenly gripped the armrest tightly, “Rebellious son, you dare.” He Chen raised an eyebrow, “What’s the hurry, you’ll know whether I dare once the arm arrives, won’t you?” He Huatang slightly closed his eyes, calmed himself, and his tone softened a bit, “Back then, you killed your own grandmother, and the He family covered it up for you. If you continue to be obstinate today, you’ll only trap yourself, is it worth it?” “What? Do I need to be grateful to you?” He Chen’s expression grew even more cold and dark, his aura so fierce it was terrifying, “That old hag who tried to sell me to the underground human trafficking market deserved to die in my eyes!” As the father-son conversation continued, those broken and unbearable past events were ruthlessly brought to light in front of everyone. Everyone present was well aware of all these facts. Yet they had no mercy or sympathy for him. Why was he, He Chen, so hated and despised by the He family? At this moment, Yin Mo, who had been inside the ancestral hall all along, had red eyes, overwhelmed with sympathy. What she knew was just the tip of the iceberg of all the misfortune. As more truths came to light, her hatred for the He family only grew stronger. Such a family, lacking virtue, was indeed unworthy of someone as honorable and righteous as He Chen. It’s better not to have it. Yin Mo had not made an appearance, nor did she interfere, because He Chen said that tonight, the He family was his battlefield. At the same time, at the Shang Family Old House. In the pavilion under the moonlight, two figures clinked glasses and chatted. Check latest chapters at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝔫𝔢𝔱 Outside the pavilion, Liuyun and Wei Ang stood, wearing Bluetooth earpieces, constantly monitoring the situation at the He family. At this time, Shang Zonghai raised his eyes to look at the man opposite him, “You didn’t tell that brat you were coming back?” “No.” Shang Yu rolled up his sleeves, his partially shadowed handsome face showing no emotion, “He’s not finished yet; it’s best not to disturb him.” Shang Zonghai pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, sighed deeply, and remarked, “That brat is usually quite smart, so why is he acting all sentimental now?” Not just the He family, even among other prestigious families in Parma, as long as he speaks up, the Shang’s would go all out to support him. “It’s not sentimentality,” Shang Yu looked up at Shang Zonghai, tapping the stone table lightly with his fingers, “it’s injustice.” Shang Zonghai pursed his lips disapprovingly, “After all these years, he should’ve let it go.” “If he accepts his fate, naturally, he can let it go.” The man gazed at the distant night sky, profound and deep, “But… someone stole their identity as mother and son; the so-called illegitimacy might be intentional.” Shang Zonghai stopped his wine glass at his lips, “Heh, for a He family without fame or reputation, there sure are a lot of schemers.” Shang Yu picked up the wine pot to refill their glasses, his lips curling as he glanced at the old man opposite, “Don’t be in a rush to intervene, let him vent first.” Shang Zonghai let out a short laugh, “Such matters do require a degree of patience.” “As long as you understand.” The man gazed with a smile at Shang Zonghai, “I heard that you’ve informed every sector in Parma not to meddle in the He family’s affairs?” Shang Zonghai leisurely sipped his sake, “As you mentioned, since he wants to vent, I must ensure he does so without any worries of repercussions.” Time passed like water, and in the blink of an eye, it was midnight. The He family’s ancestral hall in the backyard remained brightly lit. Neither fatigue nor exhaustion could stop the escalation of the situation because, not long ago, members of the Mercenary Group delivered a bloody right arm. He Huatang, already plagued by illness, suddenly began to breathe rapidly upon seeing the severed arm on the tray. He truly did not expect that He Chen would actually follow through on his words. The fracture at the middle of the arm was a gory mess, and one could even smell gunpowder if close enough. Apparently, this arm had been shot through the elbow with a bullet and brutally severed.