Qiuming Mountain Race Track.
Huo Xiaoyu sat paralyzed on the ground, her gaze vacant as she looked at Tan Renhai crawling on his knees, and then at the young man standing proudly before the assembled big shots with his hands clasped behind his back. She was a picture of endless bewilderment.
"Miss Jaja, I was wrong, please spare me this one time!"
Tan Renhai, despite the agony of his broken legs, was prostrate and pleading ceaselessly, his face was a mask of desperation for survival.
This scene was an affront to Huo Xiaoyu, a shock to the group of rich young masters present, utterly shattering their pride.
In times past, these young men thought themselves extraordinary, above everything, standing at the pinnacle amongst their peers—with powerful backgrounds and limitless wealth, they could look down upon all!
On the way here, still ignorant and exuding youthful exuberance, Lin Tian's appearance was like a clown entering their world, unworthy even of their ridicule.
But now.
