Chapter 280 A Sense Of Foreboding

"How dare you lay a hand on my goddess Cordelia? You scumbag," roared a teenage boy from the neighboring bed.

Arthur barely saw it coming before the crutch struck him, sending him flying off the bed and sprawling on the floor. The pain shot through him as though his bones had been crushed.

What was worse, though, was the room's reaction—or lack of one. Not a single soul came to help him. Instead,