There was no discernible injury, no visible wound to account for the sudden appearance of blood.

How could there be blood all of a sudden? The question hung in the air, unanswered, as suspicion clouded the atmosphere.

"Do you want to frame me?" The accusation pierced the silence, cutting through the tension like a knife. But Willie was undeterred, his resolve unyielding. “Don't forget that there were surveillance cameras at the place where I hit you," Tyrese countered, his tone firm. "There was no blood on your body at that time." Anger simmered beneath the surface as the confrontation escalated. Tyrese continued, "Get out of here, or I'll call the police."

But Willie stood his ground, his defiance unwavering. "You can call the police. I also want to do that," he declared. As he lay on the ground, Willie seized the opportunity to assert his innocence. “Did everyone hear that?" His voice rose with conviction. "He admitted that he hit me. There were surveillance cameras at that time, and I didn't have any blood on my body. Now the blood is flowing from my mouth and nose. There might be something wrong with my viscera."

The gravity of the situation dawned upon the onlookers, their murmurs of concern growing louder. "Yes, there are some people who have had car accidents and do not suffer trauma but have internal injuries," someone interjected, their voice laced with apprehension. “You'd better go to the hospital to take an X-ray..."

"He doesn't want to take me there. He said he didn't hit me," Willie lamented, casting accusatory glances in the direction of Tyrese.

Pointing a trembling finger at Tyrese, he voiced his grievances to everyone present. "He not only didn't admit that he hit me but also said that it was none of his business even if I died..."

Someone chimed in, “He just spilled the beans and said that he hit you. We all heard that."

In the face of mounting pressure, a voice of reason emerged, urging action to mitigate the fallout. "Take him to the hospital in case he is seriously hurt," someone advised Tyrese, their tone gentle but firm, "It will have a bad influence that he is lying here."

Trembling with anger and frustration, Tyrese grappled with the weight of his transgressions.

The feeling of being wronged gnawed at him, its bitter taste lingering on his tongue. What a grievance, indeed!

“I think you are all blind. He is obviously setting me up! Why are you still defending him? Are you crazy?" Tyrese erupted, his voice tinged with desperation. His finger jabbed accusingly at Willie, his anger palpable. "Get out of here right now, or I'll beat you. Believe it or not?" he threatened.

But Willie remained resolute, his expression unwavering. "I don't believe it," he declared calmly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"I'm sure you won't dare to hit me." His taunt struck a nerve, goading Tyrese to action.

With a primal roar, he lunged at Willie, his fingers clawing at his neck in a fit of rage. “Go to hell, son of a bitch!" he spat, his grip tightening with each passing moment.

But Willie refused to yield, his defiance a silent testament to his resilience.

As Tyrese's assault continued, Willie remained steadfast, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of anger and indignation.

In his heart, Willie cursed Tyrese countless times.

Sensing the escalating violence, the crowd intervened, their voices raised in protest. “You'd better take him to the hospital. Are you really going to kill him? Impulsion is the devil. Calm down. It's your fault. Take him to the hospital, and everything will be fine," they urged, their words a plea for reason.

"I've taken him there! He is blackmailing me. Can't you see that?"