Between Chen Ping's fingers.
Received the sword, shattered it, and with a backhand punched out.
He sat on the horse, his waist straight, neither twisting nor posturing.
The fist seemed to be casually thrown, yet there was a fierce wind howling around, the front of the fist, the air exploded with thunder-like sound...
The airwave raged and roared, vibrating through in a fan-shaped ripple, enveloping the old man completely.
Wu Changshui first thought to release the long sword and retreat using its force.
But pressed by the fist wind, he felt his breath stifled, eyes seeing stars.
Not only could he not retreat, but it was as if a huge swallowing black hole appeared in front of him, drawing his body imprudently towards the fist.
"No..."
He could no longer control his inner fear and cried out terribly.
