CRACK!
Han Jinlong's fist, as large as a clay pot, came to an abrupt halt. It was caught in Lin Tang's five-fingered grip, unable to advance another inch.
"Huh?"
Han Jinlong was astonished. He tried to pull his fist back but found it wouldn't budge, as if it had been welded to Lin Tang's palm.
Not good! Han Jinlong's eyelids twitched.
A moment later, searing pain shot through his fist. It was being crushed, twisting into a grotesque shape and forcing a pained cry from his lips.
"You call this an iron fist?" Lin Tang sneered, tossing him aside like a piece of trash. He then grabbed the stunned Shi Yanhong by the neck. "Try barking again. I dare you."
"Please, show mercy!" the old butler cried out, rushing forward. "She is Wang Dengke's favored mistress! If you're a friend of the Second Young Master, or if you're here to ask a favor of him, I beg you, do me this favor and do not harm her."
"Oh?"
