An imaginary cold wind silently brushed past Motan's body.
Cold—
It was truly cold!
From inside to outside, from top to bottom, a chilling cold!
The matter of seemingly having hurt a certain girl's heart was immediately irresponsibly thrown to the back of his mind. At this moment, although Motan could still barely maintain his composure without collapsing, the mental burden had already been pushed to the extreme.
Truth be told, even the previous contest with Teresa, which nearly suffocated the spectators, leaving them dazed for almost half an hour after the second match began, didn't exert as much pressure on Motan as this current scene.
