The dust seemed to have settled, but Zhao Hao lay on the ground, dazed, with dirt sticking to him, mingling with his blood, making him truly feel what it meant to hit rock bottom.
He survived, managed to live, largely because of the woman before him.
His life was saved by such a weak woman, rescued through a plea, an almost hysterical vow.
Humiliation!
Zhao Hao admitted to killing many people, but his arrogance did not allow him to live on in such disgrace, better to die with dignity!
Defeated by Wang Xuan once again, and his life seemed to be granted as a charity, Wang Xuan was now indifferent to his existence.
To be dismissed by someone he once dismissed was unbearable for Zhao Hao; his fingers clenched white, rage eager to explode.
He hated himself for not being strong enough, hated Jiang Xi's pleas, hated the state he was reduced to.
Perhaps he harbored some hatred for Wang Xuan, but in this moment, he couldn't evoke it.
