"Honestly, you've disappointed me."
Looking down at Xie Hao, Xia Ping said, "You were just bragging about how you'd put me in my place and teach me that there's always someone stronger. Is this how you planned to do it?!"
"The fight isn't even over, and you're already surrendering?!"
Xie Hao's face flushed red, then purple. He remembered what he'd said earlier: how he'd been practicing for years, perfected his swordsmanship, and become incredibly powerful. He'd even claimed there was no way a freshman could beat him, and that he'd teach Xia Ping just how wide the gap between them was.
But look at him now. After only a few exchanges, he'd been driven into a corner and forced to surrender, left with no choice but to give up in front of this kid.
The thought made him so ashamed that he wanted to bury his head in the dirt and never look up again. It was simply too humiliating.
"You were just boasting about how incredible your swordsmanship was, calling yourself a martial arts elite with sword skills perfected to the highest level. How come you're so shameless? Were you born that way?"
Xia Ping asked curiously.
"Go to hell! Xia Ping, I—I'll never forgive you!"
Xie Hao finally couldn't take it anymore. This bastard's mouth was too sharp—his words were even more devastating than his martial arts. Every sentence struck right at the heart, leaving Xie Hao utterly broken.
What did Xia Ping mean, asking if he'd been born shameless? Was he saying Xie Hao was a brazen, shameless person?
The repeated insults sent Xie Hao's blood surging. His lungs nearly burst with rage. He'd been forcing himself to endure his injuries, but now he couldn't hold on any longer. He spat out a huge mouthful of blood,