C52 Late Period of the Source Tempering

Fei Zhuliu felt his wrist might snap under the pressure. Glancing up, his face paled, and he quickly pleaded, "I'll stop, I'll stop."

"You scoundrel, how dare you take liberties with me!"

The moment Fei Zhuliu released his grip, Loong Fumei's foot flew up, connecting squarely with his nose.

"Ah!"

Clutching his nose, Fei Zhuliu's blood seeped through his fingers