Yan Hui was breathing with difficulty. His chest rose and fell irregularly as his eyes scanned the faces around him.
Then the memory came. He had spent his treasure to save his life and had been expelled from the inheritance without obtaining absolutely anything.
The first feeling that took over his body was not relief, nor gratitude for being alive.
But rather, hatred. Pure and irrational hatred, hot, burning away his reasoning.
He felt that Kyrian and the others could have done something. The sight of Kyrian watching him until the brink of death felt like mockery to Yan Hui.
He could have helped him, they could have warned him. They could have saved the others.
But they didn't, and in Yan Hui's distorted mind, that was unforgivable. Even if he were in the opposite situation, he would also let everyone die.
