"Die!!" Seizing the chance, Han Zong turned the tips of both hands into spikes, his face savage as he stabbed with all his strength at Wei He's temples.
Clang! Clang!!
Two crisp rings sounded out.
Wei He's face was unexpectedly covered by a layer of gray bony armor as well.
Han Zong's hands began bending, breaking, twisting from the fingers onward, his bones shattering.
Yet he still disregarded everything, wildly hammering Wei He's face with both palms.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang!!!
Again and again, blow after blow.
Han Zong's hands were already drenched in blood—all of it his own.
Yet he continued roaring and bellowing, trying to prove himself with his final attacks.
"What admirable willpower." Wei He remained expressionless. At the moment, his face was hidden beneath the hard shell of his mask-like armor, making any expression impossible anyway.
"So, out of respect for you."
He raised Han Zong high overhead.
"Stop!!!"
But it was already too late.
Wei He released Han Zong, then brought his hands together like lightning.
Splat!
Enormous force compressed and crushed from both sides.
Like palms pressed together toward the heavens.
Had Han Zong been at his peak, he could have endured this blow with only light injuries.
But although his strength was roughly comparable to Wei He's, the difference in their physical toughness was far too great.
It was like steel colliding with an egg under the same impact.
Only the egg would shatter.
In an instant, Han Zong's body was squeezed into a ball between those two enormous hands.
At the final moment, he desperately let out a furious roar and activated a secret technique, barely gaining a little more resistance.
Just then, a shriek rapidly approached from afar.
A large-eared monk in golden-red kasaya robes appeared before Wei He