"You're right."
Chu Fan withdrew his gaze and looked at Ling Feng. His tone was as flat as a still pond, betraying no emotion. "A person must know their own limits."
"Getting injured while sparring with your brothers in the gang is better than being cut down by an enemy and fed to wild dogs."
He raised his eyes, his gaze suddenly as sharp as a blade.
He arched an eyebrow, an undeniable sense of pressure in his look. "So if I injure you, you'd best submit meekly!"
Ling Feng's expression darkened.
His nostrils flared slightly, and the corner of his mouth twisted into a mocking sneer.
Chu Fan turned to look at Zhao Tianxing. His gaze fell on his chest, pausing for a moment before he asked, "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Zhao Tianxing coughed, the vibration in his chest aggravating his injury. He couldn't help but let out a muffled groan.
He raised a hand to rub his chest, his fingers stained with specks of blood. He forced a smile. "I was careless..."
