Cloud Mountain, Flying Horse Bandit Stronghold.
Yang Jing's gaze sharpened, and hidden strength erupted beneath his feet as he pushed Surging Wave Leg to its limit.
Despite carrying Liu Maolin on his back, he remained as swift as lightning, streaking toward the weakest point in the bandits' encirclement-the northwestern corner-like a bolt of black lightning.
"Stop him!"
A Flying Horse Bandit at the Bright Strength Realm stationed in the northwestern corner saw him coming and broke into a savage grin.
The man was burly, with thick arms, clearly an accomplished body cultivator who enjoyed some small renown among the Flying Horse Bandits.
Grinning viciously, he moved to intercept him. His sandbag-sized fist howled through the air toward Yang Jing's face. "You fool courting death! You dare break into our Flying Horse Bandit Stronghold to rescue someone? You must be tired of living!"
Yang Jing's eyes were icy. Instead of retreating, he advanced.
He supported Liu Maolin with his left hand to steady himself, clenched his right hand, and drove his own fist forward, smashing it against the bandit's!
Bang!
A heavy crash rang out, like two massive boulders colliding.
The bright strength bandit's savage grin froze, replaced by disbelieving agony.
He felt an overwhelming force surge from his opponent's fist into his arm like towering, raging waves. His bones cracked, and his entire arm instantly went numb.
"Urgh-"
He spat out a mouthful of blood and flew backward like a kite with its string cut, tracing an arc through the air before crashing into a woodpile several yards away. He twitched twice and fell still, his heart's vessels evidently shattered by that single punch.
The power of that blow left the surrounding Flying Horse Bandits rooted to the spot, their rushing steps instinctively slowing.
None of them had expected this