Xiao Han’s heart was a tempest of hurt, depression and anger.
He was a considered a rare talent, first in his family, and relatively well known from an early age. Even though he was so young, he was close to earning his own piloting alias. 1
It wasn’t as though he’d never been defeated. He’s faced stronger foes, certainly. But in those bouts it was a joy – exciting and challenging. That’s how a pilot improved.
But this was different. This was unprecedented, a shameful loss that filled him with rage and indignation.
He knew the fat lard was weaker than him, possibly by a lot. And yet through those damn tricks, and that insane equipment, he was able to pull out a win he hadn’t deserved.
Unacceptable! I refuse to take this! How the hell could I lose to him.?
Xiao Han’s anger threatened to consume him.
Just then he spied the hateful fatty looking his way. He stretched out his hands with a shrug and a smile on his fat face, like nothing was wrong.
