The powerful sound of the wind, the vast ink-colored sky, swallowed all the subtle noises as Lao Dao stepped forward.
The smooth green stone shattered into pieces, as if plowed open, with powerful joints and strong hands stretched wide, akin to a copper seal pressed down heavily on Zhang the Fifth.
The latter was shocked beyond measure, raising his hand wanting to parry, but completely unable to keep up with Lao Dao's swift palm.
In the eyes of outsiders, it looked as if he was scared stiff, standing there with closed eyes waiting for death.
Thunk!
A light press, Zhang the Fifth's head did not explode like a watermelon, instead his body trembled, muscles and bones breaking inch by inch, eyes widened, and he fell limp to his knees.
Lao Dao seemed indifferent, like pulling out a bunch of weeds, taking another step to stride into the crowd.
With crossed palms, like a great blade sweeping across, those Red Eyebrow Bandits toppled like haystacks, dying silently.
