"Don't stop now, I've just finished warming up, brother."
Ye Xiaofei watched Zhang Fei pause to rest, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He had gauged Zhang Fei's strength during their previous exchange, and in the next moment, he planned to get serious.
"Is this guy sick? He couldn't beat him before, always ducking and dodging, and now he has the cheek to say he's just finished warming up?"
"He's definitely sick, and it's no minor illness."
When the crowd beneath the ring heard Ye Xiaofei's boastful tone, they all scoffed in disdain and started to jeer.
If Ye Xiaofei had the strength, why didn't he face Zhang Fei head-on earlier?
Now that Zhang Fei had depleted most of his strength, this kid started mouthing off again, isn't he just shooting himself in the foot?
This is to slap one's own face, does Ye Xiaofei know that?
Disdain.
Utter disdain.
"The strongest boxer, kill him, smash him."
