At this point, the pig-like faces of Zhao Ziping and his two companions looked even more swollen than before. They were sprawled on the ground, unable to even crawl, groaning in pain.
"Damn, this is really bad luck," Zhao Ziping spat out a mouthful of blood.
When they were being beaten just a moment ago, they tried their best to cover their faces, but they still ended up with black and blue faces. They were badly hurt and it would probably take a long time to recover.
If the wounds didn't leave scars, it would be acceptable. But if they did, how would they continue to be gallant in public?
Zhao Ziping became increasingly distressed at the thought, wishing he could find a mirror now to carefully examine the extent of the damage.
But even without a mirror, Zhao Ziping could guess that his face was probably seriously damaged and probably disfigured.