Wang She's calculations resonated loudly.
The beads of the abacus had already flown into Zhou Ping'an's face.
He saw through Wang She's next move at a glance.
Standing still, the next moment, it seemed as though another shadow walked out of his body.
He was face-to-face with Wang She, reaching out with his left hand to grasp the other's wrist—soft like a slug—and gently tugged.
Ah...
Wang She's right arm broke cleanly at the elbow, blood splattering, and with a mournful cry, he sprang up, shooting past the audience to flee towards the outskirts.
By then, he realized he was not seeing things.
It was Zhou Ping'an's speed that was so fast it deceived his eyes.
Like a person with regular vision watching a TV show, seeing a continuous image.
However, a person with excellent dynamic vision watching the same show could tell it's a series of mechanized images stitched together.
