Zhan Fei drove the tyrannical, solid true qi cultivated from the Four Directions Demonic Skill through the Sky Turning Palm. His palm shadows drifted and fluttered, merging into a gigantic palm dozens of zhang wide that pressed down.
The giant palm was pitch-black like dense fog. The airflow within its grasp was sucked dry, and all spiritual qi vanished without a trace. It possessed the same marvelous effect as the illusory domain created by Shen Ao's Four Directions Demonic Fist, making it an extreme counter to divine arts that absorbed the spiritual qi of heaven and earth to unleash tremendous power.
As for Liao Qihui, his movements were far simpler.
As Zhan Fei struck with the Sky Turning Palm, his figure vanished from the spot like lightning. In the next instant, he had arrived at Xiang Yang's right side. His burly body curled slightly, and he joined his fingers into a palm blade, stabbing at Xiang Yang's waist.
This set of movements looked simple, but the methods of exerting force and circulating qi within had been tempered a thousand times over and were anything but ordinary. In Liao Qihui's hands, they were clean and decisive, without the slightest drag.
The timing of their coordination was excellent. If Xiang Yang wished to block it, he would have to break the techniques of two Celestial Realm experts at the same time. The difficulty was no small matter.
Yet Xiang Yang still showed no sign of strain. At the same moment Zhan Fei attacked, he gently plucked a long black hair from before his temple. He rolled it between two fingers, and the hair gleamed with the luster of gold and iron, changing from supple and smooth to incomparably hard.
Xiang Yang then rubbed his fingers together and flicked the strand of hair