When the count reached two hundred, dense, fine sweat had already begun to permeate the faces of both competitors, and their movements had become somewhat slower than before.
Samuel Wilson couldn't help but tease Adam Jones, "President Jones has so much energy, does he have nowhere to unleash it usually?"
The expression on Adam Jones's face stiffened as he caught the sarcasm in Samuel Wilson's words and responded with a cold laugh.
How could he possibly admit that he hadn't indulged in 'meat' for four years? After giving Samuel Wilson an indifferent look, he replied without changing his expression:
"Director Wilson feeling weak?"
Samuel Wilson: "..."
Their wives on their backs: "..."
Stung by Adam's jab, Samuel's complexion soured. Due to this slight lapse, his arm weakened, and he lost...
Samuel Wilson spat out a mental curse at the smug triumph unfolding in Adam Jones's slightly lifted lips, silently swearing "scheming bitch."
"Yay! Daddy won!"
