Training arc

Tension hung narrowly in the atmosphere between the two. The next few seconds was characterized by a deafening silence.

Ruan Zhaohui's brow corrugated, her eyes gleaming with a ghastly vehemence.

Alec Whitman wore a subtle stare, firm and obviously warring her away.

That moment of silence between the two was intense, like they had killed each other ten times over by just standing.

Whitman's gaze shifted from Ruan Zhaohui to the broken glass behind her back.

"That cost me a fortune. You could have used the door you know?"

Ruan Zhaohui flashed ‐ reached him in front him in less than a second, the table sliced apart cleanly by her swift movement that Whitman's eyes didn't see coming.

He frowned as her hand clutched his neck, she was biting her down on her teeth strongly such that it was evident in the pulsating muscles that could be seen on the base of her chin.

Her grip on his neck tightened with each pulsing of her muscles.