Knowing they were no match for him, wouldn't staying here be courting death? The thought of retreat had already taken root in all three of their hearts. But how could Lin Xuan let them leave so easily?
Since this was revenge, Lin Xuan had never considered showing mercy. Besides, these people had committed every evil under the sun; each and every one of them deserved death many times over.
His figure flashed, and Lin Xuan vanished from where he stood. The next instant, he appeared right in front of the brocade-robed youth. His speed was so fast it left one tongue-tied. The other party's face was filled with utter horror. He had no time to flee, and even less time to dodge, before a fist as large as a bowl smashed viciously into his face.
A ripping, cracking sound entered the ear. His protective astral qi was torn apart as though it were made of paper. Then the late-stage Lihe cultivator's face looked as if a sauce-dye shop had been opened on it—his head split and blood flowed, and even his nose had been blasted crooked.
Lin Xuan was the sort who, once he had the advantage, would never let anyone off. Of course he would not stop there. Both fists swung, striking straight up and straight down. Bang, bang, bang rang out without pause, accompanied by screams rising and falling one after another.
Lin Xuan could even lift mountains. When this punch struck out, how could it possess merely a thousand catties of force? Even a Demon Race member of the same rank could not withstand it, much less a mere immortal cultivator.
After a dozen or so punches, the poor man's tendons had long since snapped and his bones had broken. Though he had not fallen, this fleshly