Facing Zhan Tian stood a tall young man dressed in black, holding a peculiar weapon, a fan. This young man was Wei Hong, no weakling, but a genius ranked eighteenth on the Heavenly Pride List. Though his strength was formidable, his luck seemed a bit lacking.
"Zhan Tian, although there's a gap of three stars in our battle power, I didn't use my full strength just now!"
"Even if I can't beat you, I will never admit defeat!!"
Wei Hong's face was extremely grave, his voice low as he spoke. The fan in his hand was surrounded by flying snow, and an invisible cold wind howled around him.
Zhan Tian quietly watched him, nodding slightly, and said calmly, "Wei Hong, your strength could rank in the top fifteen, pity you met me. However, maybe you can take one of my punches!"
"What, one punch???"
"Are you looking down on me!!"
