Qi Yin, a protector of the Martial Association.
A twelfth-level Fist Master.
How could such a formidable top expert be knocked back just like that?
Many people had no idea what had just happened, but some saw it very clearly. The young man who had just arrived merely waved his hand, and Qi Yin was sent flying back as if he had been hit by a car.
How was this possible?
Qi Yin raised his head, his bloodshot eyes staring daggers at Chen Yang. He admitted to himself that he hadn't used his full strength. But the force from his opponent had been like a tidal wave—devastating and utterly unstoppable. It was not something human strength could resist.
Leaning on a broken table, Qi Yin straightened his back and asked coldly, "Who are you?"
"I told you to come here," Chen Yang repeated.
"You..." Qi Yin's face turned livid, and the hand he pointed at Chen Yang trembled slightly. In all his decades, he had never met such an arrogant young man. Ordering him around?
Heh…
