"Slap! Slap! Slap!"
"Speak now! Answer me! Why didn't you answer earlier?" Dantong rebuked, slapping again.
Slap after slap, Zhulin's face swelled to the size of a fist, on the verge of tears.
You never even gave me a chance to speak—how could I answer?
The three Transcendent Saints of the Demon Clan standing nearby didn't dare intervene, only watching as Zhulin was slapped endlessly.
Everyone in the Dragon God Palace was utterly dumbfounded.
Dantong shook his arm and cursed, "What kind of skin is this? It's making my hand hurt!"
"..." Everyone was rendered speechless.
Zhulin was almost infuriated to the point of vomiting blood.
"I... I already answered," Zhulin replied with his swollen face, completely unrecognizable, almost like a pig's head.
"Did you? When? I didn't hear it," Dantong said in surprise, then looked at everyone in the Dragon God Palace, asking, "Did he answer me just now?"
