Yang Zhi's vision blurred as he touched his crooked nose, blood streaming through his trembling fingers. The pain was sharp, but the humiliation cut deeper more especially in front of the woman of his dreams. How could he live with it if he lost face? "You… you," he stammered, his voice shaking with rage and desperation. "Teach him a lesson for me!"
Xiang Yu's lips curled into a sly, vile smile, his eyes glinting with a sinister light. His presence was oppressive, a dark cloud that made the two men hesitate, their confidence wavering. Yang Zhi, bleeding profusely onto the floor, screamed again, his teeth stained with blood. "What are you waiting for?"
