Li Muling was indeed tempted.
She had been fretting over how to deal with Zhang Xiaomeng.
And here he was, that despicable wretch, delivering himself to her doorstep.
Daring to stake his very manhood in a bet with her, heh heh.
She even found herself fantasizing about Zhang Xiaomeng losing, and her aiming a pistol at his lower half, rendering him impotent—him being reduced to a eunuch from then on.
In her mind, even if Zhang Xiaomeng were formidable, he couldn't possibly match those experts of the third floor.
Those individuals weren't just experts; they were practically monsters.
With that thought, Li Muling suppressed her inner excitement, "Are you sure you want to bet the happiness of your lower body against me?"
"Of course, a promise made is like an unchaseable horse."
"But I feel like your stake is a bit light. After all, I'm betting the happiness of my lower half. If you lose, letting me take a shot should be okay, right?"
