```
"Now tell me, who's the chickenshit?" Xu Fan still didn't release the foreigner's hand, still twisting it hard.
The excruciating pain made the foreigner's forehead bead with sweat, and now he was absolutely certain that the 250-kilogram barbell Xu Fan lifted with two fingers was definitely not faked.
"I am the chickenshit, both of us are chickenshits!" the foreigner gasped, humbly answering Xu Fan.
"Good!" Xu Fan nodded, withdrew his hand, and with a kick, sent the foreigner sprawling to the ground.
"With such a booming tourism industry in Yulou Ancient Town, surely there isn't a lack of tattoo artists, right?" Xu Fan asked Zhao Dong.
"Yes, we have them, we have them. Our Yulou Management Company even has a collaboration with a dedicated tattoo artist, I'll call one for you right now," Zhao Dong said to Xu Fan, beaming with joy.
