Chapter 2672: Please Spare My Daughter...

Sylvan Cheney lowered his head, took out his phone, and tapped open a Weibo, his slender fingers gently swiping across the screen.

He found a photo: "Is it her?"

The middle-aged man nodded affirmatively: "Yes, yes, it’s her. She came during the day, so I saw clearly. It’s definitely her. Sir, she gave me some money. I was originally planning to take this secret to the grave. I didn’t expect that over a year later, you’d come to find me..."

"Oh? After tonight, will you tell anyone about my visit? Hmm?"

"No, sir, I won’t say a word. I swear."

"I don’t quite believe you." Sylvan Cheney squinted his eyes.

"Then how can you trust me? What do you want me to do? Tell me, as long as I can do it, I’ll keep my promise." The man was anxious.

"I don’t need you to do anything. I don’t trust any stranger; I only trust myself." Sylvan Cheney’s face bore a cunning look like a fox’s. "So listen carefully, I’ve had people find out which university your daughter attends, her dormitory..."

"Sir, I swear, I certainly won’t speak out. Please spare my daughter..." The man panicked, interrupting Sylvan Cheney before he could finish. "She’s my only daughter; she’s obedient and excels in her studies. Please don’t harm her, okay?"

"What I do depends on what you do. Understand?" Sylvan Cheney’s sharp gaze cut into him like a knife.

"I understand, I understand, I got it."

"Hmm, don’t let me down."

"Yes, I certainly won’t." The middle-aged man realized that this man was more terrifying than others.

The air was tense, the pressure so low it was suffocating.

There seemed to be something explosive in the air, needing only a spark to ignite completely.

Sylvan Cheney said nothing, playing with his phone, and only after a while did he put it in the pocket of his trousers carelessly, but his expression was shrouded in menace.

The rain outside showed no sign of stopping, as if buckets of water were pouring from the sky, leaving only the roaring sound between heaven and earth.

Sylvan Cheney kept silent, and the middle-aged man dared not speak.

For a moment, the room plunged into silence again.

The middle-aged man’s heart was restless, pounding uncontrollably.

After a long time, he tentatively asked, "Sir... Is there anything else you want to ask? I’ll tell everything I know."

"I’ll have someone take you home. You better remember what I just said. What I do depends on what you do."

"I’ve remembered, remembered." The man nodded swiftly, finally letting go of his anxiety.

Sylvan Cheney looked up, gazing down at him. That look was cold and chilling, like winter frost.

No one spoke again, everywhere was filled with tension and unease.

Sylvan Cheney did not leave immediately, his icy glare resting on the middle-aged man’s face, keeping his gaze as if thinking of something or perhaps nothing at all.

Sylvan Cheney said nothing, and the middle-aged man dared not speak.

After a long time, Sylvan Cheney stood straight, hands in his pockets, glanced at him indifferently: "Remember your own words."

With that, he turned his head and walked out of the room.

The hallway was still empty, seemingly stretching out endlessly.

Sylvan Cheney’s steady, understated footsteps fell on the carpet, with a resolute gaze in his eyes.