When the men heard this, they laughed even more wretchedly and surrounded Feng Qing with their clubs.
The evening sun fell on Feng Qing. March was already prepared to fight, and Feng Qing's lips curled up slightly, her expression somewhat excited. Feng Qing tilted her head and smiled happily. "The one being pleasured should be me…"
"What did you say?"
"Ah—!"
In less than a minute, more than a dozen men were knocked down, each of them screaming.
"They really can't make it!" Feng Qing sighed regretfully. These people had nothing but brute force and no fighting techniques. She had finished them off in a few moves, but she hadn't had enough yet.
At this moment, Old Zhu struggled to his feet and struck the back of Feng Qing's head with the iron rod. Feng Qing's ears moved slightly and she lowered her head to dodge the iron rod. She spun her left leg and kicked Old Zhu's chin.
