Howling gusts of wind.
Gu Sheng's power surged endlessly, his fist striking with ferocity. A loud crack rang out, and the tiger's claw was forcibly snapped apart.
His gaze grew increasingly unrestrained and gleeful.
When gaining the upper hand, spare no mercy for the tiger!
Fist after fist, wrapped in sheer force, pounded viciously against the tiger's head.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Blood and flesh splattered, the muffled sounds thundered like a storm. Dizzy and disoriented, the tiger—already gravely injured with an arrow piercing its left eye—succumbed entirely after this relentless beating, soon losing all signs of life.
Gu Sheng halted his assault, slightly catching his breath as he viewed the massive tiger before him, his eyes brimming with an indescribable sense of achievement.
A tiger is the king of the jungle; to single-handedly hunt such a beast is an honor.
Yet of course.
For someone like Gu Sheng, joy did not stem from some vague, ethereal notion of honor.
