Shen Yinning neither dodged nor avoided; instead, she mockingly lifted her exquisitely curved, snow-white jaw.
Lu Ying was calmly seated on a circle-back chair, enjoying his tea.
The powerful sound of an approaching fist reached his ears. He lifted his eyelids, casually flicking the teacup in his hand. The cup, carried by the swirling wind, shot straight toward Shen Xinglei!
The teacup collided mid-air with Shen Xinglei's fist with uncanny precision!
Though it was just a small teacup, Shen Xinglei felt his knuckles tremble in pain as if struck by lightning. His fist could no longer advance even a fraction of an inch!
In the next moment, the porcelain teacup shattered, countless fragments embedding into his fist. Blood and flesh intermingled in a grisly, horrifying sight!
Clutching his injured hand with a face darkened with rage, Shen Xinglei's lips quivered as he snarled, "Crown Prince?!"
