"Kneel properly!"
"Father!!" Lin Jiaxin knelt on the prayer mat in front of the ancestral hall, her eyes still filled with stubbornness.
"You, the legitimate daughter of the Lin family, have set your sights on a constable's son! And you still have the face to look at me? Can't you take your aunt as an example?" The middle-aged man showed anger, and the willow whip in his hand was raised high.
"Master, don't!" The young-looking woman beside him quickly reached out to grab the right hand holding the willow whip.
"Why not? She is an Eighth Grade Martial Artist, are you afraid I'll hurt her with a whip?" the middle-aged man retorted angrily.
"Master, Xin'er is still a girl!" The middle-aged woman looked heartbroken.
"Father, he's outstanding and handsome!" Jiang Yiming's face flashed in Lin Jiaxin's mind as she spoke.
