"If you want a fight, I'll give you one. No need to hold back. Understand?"
His earlier playfulness vanished. Qin Fan looked at Qiao Xiyuan, stressing each word.
Hearing this, Qiao Xiyuan burst into derisive laughter. With utter disdain, he sneered, "Did I hear that right? Are you sure you don't want me to hold back?"
"I don't have time to waste on you. Let's go!" Qin Fan gave a faint, silent smile, his voice hardening.
"Since you're looking for death, I'll grant your wish! Don't worry, I won't kill you. At most, I'll just leave you unable to care for yourself!"
Even many of the fiercest generals in the army didn't dare to face him in close combat. Yet this sixteen or seventeen-year-old kid, someone who was bullied at school like a stray dog, actually wanted to fight him on equal terms? What was this, if not courting death?
With that said, Qiao Xiyuan let out a heavy, cold snort, and his burly frame shot toward Qin Fan.
