Ye Xuan's face was filled with malice. With his hands striking alternately, one slap followed another, landing heavily on Song Xiang's face.
In an instant, Song Xiang's face cracked open like a smashed watermelon.
His face, like a blooming chrysanthemum, was covered with blood-red fingerprint marks, swollen beyond recognition, his mouth full of blood. He couldn't look more miserable.
"Nineteen slaps already, just one more to go."
Ye Xuan smiled lightly, his calm smile like a still water surface, without a ripple, and said in a sinister tone.
"The twentieth slap, here we go!"
As soon as Ye Xuan finished speaking, his actions did not pause, and another slap hit Song Xiang's face.
How should this slap be described?
Like moving mountains and overturning seas?
Like a giant boulder collapsing?
Ye Xuan delivered a slap which landed on Song Xiang's face.
As Song Xiang bore the slap, his entire body flew horizontally nearly ten meters away, crashing over many tables and chairs.
