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The intense drumbeat and Yang Ming's punches and kicks were almost in sync.

Miss Windsor couldn't believe what she was seeing; she had moved from initial panic and urgency to a single emotion now—

Shock.

Pure shock.

Dozens of figures lay inside and outside the dance floor.

The fight had shifted from the dark corridor to the dance floor.

From a few minutes ago, this group of fierce men wielding electric batons and metal rods surrounded Yang Ming, unleashing this chaotic battle.

But even with seven or eight people attacking at once, Yang Ming managed to avoid vital points, using his back and arms to withstand some non-serious hits.

Miraculously, Yang Ming didn't know how many blows he had taken, but his movements were entirely unaffected.

Yet, whenever Yang Ming's fists and feet swung, one or two people would go down.

More and more thugs lay on the ground.