Zhao Yiming's foot slammed into the stall door one last time with a loud BANG, and the hinges finally gave way.
The metal creaked as it bent inward, crashing open to reveal the terrified man crouched on the toilet like a cornered rat.
"Please, wait—let's talk—"
Zhao grabbed him by the collar before he could finish and yanked him off the seat like a sack of garbage.
The man's head smacked against the stall wall with a dull thud before Zhao dragged him out into the open floor like a predator tossing its prey.
"You wanted to talk shit about Madam He?" he snarled, "You mocked he, who's still in the ICU because of bastards like you?"
His fist crashed into the man's cheek, sending blood splattering across the floor.
"FU-"
The guy didn't even get a chance to scream—Zhao's knuckles already met his stomach next, folding him over like a chair before an uppercut sent him sprawling across the dirty tile.
"That crazy bastard! I need to run!"
