"Father!" Chen Zhengbin rushed over to support Chen Jiateng, his face filled with sorrow and anger.
"Haha, Brother Chen, you've lost!" Alon laughed loudly and triumphantly.
"Haha, Mr. Chen, truly brave and remarkable, but your Huaxia spellcasting is ultimately inferior to that of the Javanese!" Matsukawa Nozomu's face revealed a hideous, triumphant smile.
Their followers did the same, looking at Chen Jiateng and his son with a mix of smugness and coldness.
"You've got to accept the loss when you place a bet! Brother Chen, thanks for your generosity," said Alon, seeing that Chen Jiateng had pressed his arm several times but the black line continued to spread upward. Not only did he show no intention of bringing out an antidote, instead, he clasped his fists toward Chen Jiateng and said with a sneer.
Seeing Alon and Matsukawa Nozomu so arrogantly triumphant, Chen Zhengbin was so angry that he clenched his fists and wanted to rush at them.
