Huang Zhenyang was rebuked and sat down, grinding his teeth. "Low-class people will be low-class people, resorting to such despicable methods."
In a battle between Martial Artists, fists, feet, and Hidden Weapons should clash in a sharp and fierce exchange. Now *that* was a real fight.
Quicklime? What is this? A brawl between street thugs and hooligans?
But after Huang Zhenyang spoke, no one echoed his sentiment. Their faces were all grim. No matter how contemptible they found quicklime, it had just inflicted real damage on Ouyang Shuang. Therefore, at that moment, it was the Huang and Ye Families who were truly hurt.
"You're despicable!" Ouyang Shuang's eyes burned with a scorching pain.
However, after a moment, relying on the robust physique of an Innate Martial Artist, she managed to regain her sight. But her vision would be a far cry from what it was before.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Two poisoned needles, splitting high and low, shot straight toward her in response.
