Jiang Chen's consciousness was getting hazy. The pain in his chest and back transitioned from a searing, throbbing sensation to a mind-numbing chill.
With his turbid gaze, he watched the masked figure close the distance between them in unhurried, deliberate steps, hands held behind as a silent declaration of the conclusion of their duel.
Jiang Chen gritted his teeth and tried to get up with every fiber of his remaining willpower. Even within the confused haze, his spirit roared against the indignation of suffering a defeat at the hand of someone he detested so heavily.
By now, Han Xuhan was standing very close, so close that all Jiang Chen could see was a pair of worn-out shoes. The feeling of being enveloped by his opponent's shadow only added to Jiang Chen's fury. He raised his neck and glared at Han Xuhan.
