With his head covered, Bessiere listened to the commotion around him and a bad feeling rose in his heart.

What's wrong?

He loosened his grip slightly to see what had happened, but it was too late.

A whooshing sound came from below, and a foot wearing a short boot entered the field of vision.

Then, a tremendous force traveled upwards along the spine to the top of the head.

Bessimo's eyes bulged out, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The next second—

"Thump!"

Bessimo's knees buckled and he fell to his knees. His hands, which had been protecting his head, slowly fell down to cover his crotch.

Tears streamed down his face as he gasped for breath, his eyes fixed on Sang Ning for a long while before he shouted with all his might, "Sang Ning, you bastard! You have no martial ethics!"

Sang Ning exclaimed, grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, and said, "I've stopped, don't worry, it'll only hurt for a moment."

Is this something that just hurts a little?

Bessimo was on the verge of a breakdown. He cried out, "You bastard! You're heartless! We agreed on a proper competition, and you've resorted to such underhanded tactics! Don't you have any shame?"

"I'm asking you, do you have any shame at all?"

Sang Ning felt quite aggrieved. She said, "I asked you before if we should set some rules or something, and you said no."

"If you set a rule that forbids the use of underhanded tactics, then I definitely won't use them."

"But you didn't say that in a competition without rules, winning is naturally more important to me, don't you think?"