Fang Nanxiang's solid chest muscles undulated as he twisted his neck and rotated his arms, his bones occasionally making a crisp cracking sound. It had been many years since he had used his fists, and this small amount of exercise was not even enough to count as a warm-up for him.
Stunned like a wooden chicken, Han Tao's mouth hung open, his skinny body trembling as he began to back away step by step, stammering, "You, you, you are digging your own grave. Ye Chenfeng, you'd better kneel down and kowtow to me right now, and then offer your woman up with both hands, or else I can have my dad come to Tianhai and wipe you out immediately."
It was baffling where Han Tao got this sense of superiority from? Even now, he was still putting on airs like a second-generation rich kid. Wasn't this just depriving Ye Chenfeng of any excuse to spare him?
