Ma Zhentao stood there stiffly, unable to make a sound, only futilely opening his mouth wide as a wheezing sound slowly emerged from his throat.
One sound after another, like an elderly person on the verge of death.
His entire skeleton seemed to be frozen; at this moment, when He Qing struck into his abdomen with her palm, he could only struggle to look down—only the base of the girl's fair hand remained outside of his clothing. Sharp pain tore through his abdomen, her hand had clearly penetrated through the layers of clothing, effortlessly slicing into his gut like a knife through butter!
No, perhaps not the gut.
If a foreign object like this penetrated a normal person's gut, wouldn't the pain be far more intense? It did hurt, but it wasn't unbearable. And in the location where He Qing's hand was, he could vaguely feel something between his body and the void, a place unknown to him.
