The strength of a sixteen-year-old boy is different from that of a man in his thirties, even if they appear to have similar builds.
Zacaro wasn't knocked down with one blow; his eyes were almost popping out of their sockets as he stared unblinkingly at his nephew behind him.
His body was in a state of heightened tension in an emergency, one hand gripping his pants tightly, and the other clutching the sofa's backrest.
His whole body seemed to be leaning backward, but because he was frozen, he did not fall!
He had never thought that a young man almost entirely uninvolved in family affairs could be so ruthless to his uncle!
His mind had frozen; after his brain was severely injured, his ability to think had stalled, he simply glared at Francisco, using those angry eyes to express his inner rage and fear.
Blood flowed quickly from his head, in the blink of an eye, covering part of his face, even hanging onto his eyelashes.
