"You call me a 'lowly breed' and a 'lower realm mongrel'; what are you, flaunting your sense of superiority in front of Sword Master Zhu? Does it hurt? I'm just asking you!"
Zhu Minglang once again furiously slapped the noble youth across the face.
His slapping, that was art.
Knowing that the other party had a life-preserving jade, impossible to shatter, Zhu Minglang managed the critical force with each slap.
This force was enough not to trigger the noble youth's life-preserving jade shield, yet still cause him excruciating pain.
Sure enough, after a series of slaps, the youth's face was swollen like a pig demon's. His teeth shattered, his nasal bone broken, his fair face now indistinguishable from a burst pig's liver.
The youth was not dead, but the humiliation from Zhu Minglang was equivalent to death for this proud and haughty young man.
