He was not someone to be assassinated with a sword. Although he might use it occasionally, most of the time he preferred to solve problems with his fists, because he could personally feel the struggle and helplessness of his target before death, obtaining the greatest psychological pleasure from it.
Because of this, his entire body's joints and bones were as hard as steel. Whether it was his fists, elbows, knees, or feet, they were the murder weapons he was most proud of!
His fists were like sharp arrows, powerful and irresistible, then in an instant. Finally, he suddenly changed, slapping with his palm, creating overlapping waves. He bent his knees and bowed, like an old man offering a peach, slid towards the sound of leaves and phoenixes on the ground, as a thunderstorm erupted upon his hard elbow, similar to the thunderstorm caused by air friction. Roaring!
