Lu Xuan looked indifferently at the man standing before him—an old monk whose face was lined with wrinkles.
His hands were curled into claws, his withered fingers like slender bone spikes, and a small scrap of cloth still clung to his right hand.
When the old monk saw Lu Xuan's chest, which bore not the slightest mark—
His sunken, clouded eyes widened enormously, his pupils shrinking as he refused to believe what he was seeing.
"What?!"
"How is this possible?!"
"Who exactly are you?!"
The old monk was utterly questioning his life. He simply could not understand it.
Why had this young-looking man taken his full-force strike head-on without suffering the slightest injury?
He was a Great Accomplishment of Marrow Refining Realm martial artist. Even a massive boulder several meters tall could be torn apart by him.
While the old monk was terrified out of his wits, Lu Xuan regarded him with an odd look as well.
This was the first time Lu Xuan had successfully been ambushed at close range. Though the other man's attack had been soft and powerless to him, he had still allowed the man to get close enough to strike him.
It seemed he had still underestimated the people of this world.
He had not expected a mere Marrow Refining Realm martial artist to evade his senses.
The caution Lu Xuan had long since lost returned to him once more.
In an instant, the old monk came to his senses. He was no fool; he knew the other party's strength far surpassed his own.
The old monk was about to flee far into the distance behind him, opening his mouth as if to cry out for help.
But before he could make a sound, a tall black shadow appeared behind him, like a boundless abyss