Lin Bingzhi's grip was surprisingly powerful, clamping onto Zhang Jingyun's wrist like an iron vice. As a body cultivator, he struggled twice yet failed to break free.
He glanced down at Lin Bingzhi's hand. Her palm was as white as snow; because she neither used weapons nor practiced fist or foot combat, there wasn't even a trace of a callus on it. Yet a hand like this didn't look delicate at all, but rather brimming with strength.
Just like those men who saw a young woman with a pair of slender legs and couldn't help sighing, "What a pity those legs aren't pedaling a tricycle," Zhang Jingyun couldn't help muttering inwardly: "Such a fine pair of hands, what a pity they aren't used for boxing."
Chapter 135