As Chen Youliang spoke, he fired dozens of concealed weapons at Shen Fei—copper coins, flying daggers, silver needles. Once he heard that Shen Fei knew he was Cheng Kun's disciple, Chen Youliang understood that there was no way he could escape with any righteous-sounding excuse. He had always tailored his words to his audience, speaking like a man to men and like a ghost to ghosts. That was how he had become Cheng Kun's disciple and an Eight-Sack Elder of the Beggar Clan, even seizing the clan's power for himself.
When the others saw Chen Youliang make his move, they attacked as well. Chen Youliang was their companion, while Shen Fei was the leader of the Ming Cult, their greatest enemy. Some raised staffs, while others struck at Shen Fei with their bare palms.
"Don't be so nervous. I'm not here to kill you." Shen Fei waved his right hand, sending every concealed weapon, palm wind, and weapon flying away. Then his left index finger moved, and Chen Youliang's left arm immediately flew off. The sudden agony of losing an arm made Chen Youliang let out a miserable scream.
"Elder Chen!" Seeing that Shen Fei seemed to have done nothing, yet Chen Youliang had lost an arm, the Beggar Clan members became extremely wary. Still, someone raised his staff and charged Shen Fei again. As members of the Beggar Clan, their weapons were mostly staffs and monk's spades; swords and sabers were rarely used. After all, they could hardly carry swords and sabers while begging.
The next moment, the man suddenly realized that he seemed to be flying. Then he saw his lower body running forward while his upper body remained where it was. He immediately understood what had happened, and a moment later, he let out a shrill scream.