"Mr. Huang, how are you, are you okay?" Hou Xinchang asked insincerely.
The fatty kept shaking his hand, exclaiming, "You... What kind of skill is this? It pains me a lot."
Hou Xinchang was dumbfounded, just a little pain? What is this fatty made of?
Lin Tian chuckled, "I finally understand why generals in ancient portraits are often fatties; their resilience is unusually strong."
Of course, Lin Tian knew that those generals weren't really obese, but robust, with broad shoulders and strong frames; it's just their physique. Modern strongmen are similar, appearing large and cumbersome, lacking muscle definition, but those muscle-bound fitness enthusiasts can't withstand a punch from them.
Hou Xinchang's eyes brightened, and he suddenly charged forward, taking advantage of Huang Xiaopang's distraction from waving his hand to launch another attack, his knife hand aiming straight for the fatty's heart.
