Capenul's left fist, wreathed in flames, smashed down toward Ye Zhetian's head.
BOOM!
With one punch, the very air around it shattered.
Capenul was confident that a single blow would be enough to kill the kindergarten-aged child before him. To his amusement, the child didn't dodge or evade his fist. Instead, he simply raised his own fist and swung wildly.
There was no technique at all, just pure, uncoordinated flailing! The sight of Ye Zhetian's punches made Capenul want to laugh.
Finally, their fists collided.
Ye Zhetian let out a wild battle cry, "Aaaah!" He had never practiced any martial skills, so all he could do was flail his fists aimlessly.
But as their fists met—
"Ah!"
A sudden, piercing scream came not from the boy, but from Capenul. He felt as though his left fist had smashed into solid diamond; the pain was excruciating.
How could this be? How is this possible?
