At the corner of the carved sandalwood table, Yunming's hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if he were trying to embed the hard wood into his palm.
Exerting too much force, his fingertips scraped against the table surface, producing a grating creak that sounded exceptionally harsh in the slightly quiet room.
Looking at Yunming, the veins on his forehead bulged like little green snakes, and the blood vessels at his temples throbbed violently.
Chapter 158