The ruined Daoist temple had never been lively to begin with, and now it fell even more deathly silent.
Everyone looked at Yang An, their expressions rather telling.
Striking out to teach Broken Hand a lesson at the slightest disagreement—he was establishing his authority.
Of course, Broken Hand had been the one to start trouble first. After all, no one else had intended to question anything; only he had opened his mouth.
Standing nearby, Wen Yin also revealed a hint of nervousness and surprise.
Broken Hand's words had been aimed at her, yet Senior Brother had acted without hesitation. Would this bring trouble upon Senior Brother?
The sound of shattered stones scattering came from outside the temple. Countless sharp branches suddenly shot through the gaping hole and lashed toward Yang An.
Seeing that things had gone awry, the others hurriedly dodged aside.
Yang An remained standing where he was, his expression unchanged. He raised a hand slightly, and a dazzling radiance shone from it.
The incoming branches could not even approach him before they rapidly dissolved away in utter silence.
Broken Hand charged in from outside the temple. Half his face had already turned wooden, with only his eyeball trembling within it, brimming with savage ferocity.
Those branches had frantically grown from the arm upon which a tree had sprouted.
Yang An was utterly unmoved. As the fellow rushed before him and seemed about to unleash some technique, Yang An's hand pierced effortlessly into his body in the blink of an eye.
"If you can't keep quiet, I'll help you keep quiet!"
A brilliant light burst through Broken Hand's body, instantly reducing all the flesh below his chest and abdomen to ash.
Pain twisted across Broken Hand's face.
Yang An had not intended to kill him. With a casual palm