Wang Anfeng suddenly became absent-minded for a moment.
The rhythm of his forcefully beating heart changed irregularly several times, a symptom typically found in those with congenital deficiencies and weak hearts. He had never experienced such a thing since he could remember, let alone since laying the foundation in the Divine Skills of the Shaolin tradition, making his constitution amongst the most robust compared to his peers in martial arts.
He frowned and glanced around, then turned to look at Liu Ling, who was swinging a wine jug behind him. The scent of wine was everywhere, yet he could not partake; to Liu Ling, a drunkard, this was indeed a form of extreme torture.
Wang Anfeng listened and said softly,
"Old Liu, did you hear any women crying?"
Liu Ling was surprised for a moment, then replied with a teasing laugh,
