Yan Chang stared blankly with bloodshot eyes, blinking futilely: Who am I? Where am I? What on earth just happened?!
No way, my trump card, how could it just...
He clutched his aching head, incapable of recalling what transpired in that lightning-fast moment. Ji Jue beckoned, and the household cat filming the entire process ran over, raising the screen.
Slow motion.
Captured by the ultra-high-speed camera, the momentary change replayed at hundreds of times slower speed...
Facing the incoming short stick, Ji Jue neither blocked nor dodged.
He simply reached out.
Instead, he turned towards Yan Fei, lightly twisted to evade the trajectory of the stick, flicked his finger, and tapped on Yan Chang's wrist.
