The black-clad bruiser who walked in didn't say a word before ferociously slapping Fu Luosheng's face with a series of continuous strikes. His palm, like a giant fan, sent the pampered wealthy young master's teeth flying. Fu Luosheng hadn't figured out what was happening. After taking a beating, he lay on the ground, his face covered in blood, looking utterly wretched. He pointed at the black-clad bruiser and roared, "Damn it, take a good look at who I am! You dare lay a hand on this young master? You're all seeking death!"
The black-clad bruiser stepped on his chest. "You talk too much." Bending down, he delivered several more vicious slaps.
"Help!" Fu Luosheng shrieked like a pig being slaughtered. What terrifying figure was this before him, with feet like iron hooves—too intimidating!
