"Put some effort into it! You hit like a little girl!" Shen Haoran's faint voice echoed, causing Wang Zhan's expression to instantly darken.
"Don't know how to use your strength? Let me teach you!" Haoran sneered. The hand gripping Zhan's fist slowly began to crush down.
As Haoran increased the pressure, Zhan's expression shifted drastically. Veins bulged across his face and arm, the limb trembling uncontrollably. The sheer physical strength crushing his fist ignited a flare of pain. He could even hear his bones grinding together.
Haoran's expression remained entirely indifferent. The crowd in the hall had no idea what was transpiring; they only saw the two locked in a stalemate. Yet, something seemed terribly wrong with Zhan's face.
