Sweat dripped down his chin and hit the ground, creating a dark spot.
Ye Wuchen leaned against the cold barbed wire, his chest seemed to be stuffed with torn cotton wool, and it was difficult to breathe. The cheers and curses from around the arena buzzed into my ears, as if they were separated by a layer of water and couldn't be heard clearly. His left eye was so swollen that there was only a slit left, and the cheekbone on his right cheek was burning with pain. It was probably cracked.
"Master Chen, do you still want to fight?"
