Between two enormous horns thrusting toward the sky,
Meng Chao raised his fists high.
His ten fingers interlocked, his fists clenched together, forming an unparalleled warhammer.
He had not summoned, nor did he need to summon, the twin chained blades, Skull Crusher.
His iron fists were the peerless killing weapons capable of smashing through every obstacle.
Boom!
Meng Chao swung down both fists. A string of crackling bone explosions erupted from within him as surging Spiritual Energy, driven by the frenzied dance of nine dragon veins, howled down his arms and slammed viciously into the ground.
The earth seemed to have been struck by a bunker-busting bomb, bulging into a mound more than ten meters across.
Web-like cracks spread rapidly in every direction beneath the shockwave, reaching the feet of every Bloodhoof Warrior in an instant and rippling layer upon layer across their Totem Armor.
The Bloodhoof Warriors tasted the suffocation and terror that Death Trigon had tasted thousands of years ago.
As one, they recalled that Meng Chao had begun empty-handed. Every weapon he had used had been seized from the Bloodhoof Warriors.
That was the habit of "Fist."
The founder of the Bloodhoof Clan had not liked using weapons, either.
The only reason "Fist" had forged Death Trigon's skull into the Death Warhammer was that he felt his invincible iron fists were simply too savage—no one could withstand even one full-force blow from them.
Could the heroic spirit of the legendary "Fist" truly have descended into the body of this Black Dwarf before them?
Otherwise, how could a mere Black Dwarf possess an aura like a wall of bronze and iron, blocking an entire Turanze army?
The thickest and longest crack in the earth, however, stretched like a furious dragon baring its fangs and claws, all the way