Facts proved that only under an iron fist did one gain more of a voice.
As the Twisted One loudly begged for mercy and surrendered, Jiang Dali stopped at the right moment and circulated his power to withdraw the force of Maha Wuliang. The wounds that had just closed on his body immediately split open again, spraying jets of blood, yet he inwardly breathed a little easier.
Fortunately, this Twisted One was also frail by nature, especially physically. It simply could not withstand the blow of his second punch.
The spatial distortion power, the only thing that posed an enormous threat to him, also seemed to have reached its limit after being used repeatedly. Thus, it had no choice but to bow its head.
If the other party had launched another fierce assault, Jiang Dali could have blocked it at some cost, but his already greatly depleted internal strength would likely have been exhausted. At that point, neither could do anything to the other, and the Twisted One naturally would not have chosen to surrender.
Jiang Dali advanced unhurriedly, his bearing imposing and steady. "Speak. Tell me everything I want to know."
The Twisted One stared fixedly at Jiang Dali's tall, brawny frame. Though Jiang Dali was drenched in blood and covered in wounds, with even his left arm broken, it still could not muster the courage to fight him with its last ounce of strength.
Courage, that fine and precious quality, simply could not exist in a Twisted One that had long lost its original heart. Even the mention of courage filled it with fear.
Thus, having now suffered defeat and injury, though it still had the strength to attack, it utterly lacked the courage to risk its life against Jiang Dali.
The Twisted One suddenly smiled faintly. "Since