A huge hand seized Donkey by the neck. A savage look crossed Wang Ba's face as his fingers clenched viciously. Donkey let out a miserable howl, his neck cracking as it twisted into seven or eight bizarre right angles. Then he spat out a mouthful of pitch-black clotted blood, splattering Wang Ba's face.
No one knew where Donkey had gotten this black blood, but it was not only foul beyond measure—it was also fiercely corrosive. Wisps of black smoke rose from Wang Ba's face with piercing sizzling sounds, and patches of tiny blisters rapidly swelled across his skin.
The Wang Family clansmen around Wang Zong roared themselves hoarse and charged forward at the same time.
One Wang Family clansman, two fists shorter than Lin Qi but just as powerfully built, threw a punch straight at Lin Qi's face. "You brazen brat, you dare lay hands on Ancestor Wang Ba? This is insubordination, this is rebellion, this is—"
Lin Qi did not wait for him to finish. He simply swung out a slap. His palm, tightly encased in the gauntlet of the Blood-Soaked Tiger Soul Armor, smashed viciously into the man's face. With a crisp smack, every bone in half his face shattered, and all the teeth still in his mouth broke into countless fragments.
The man sprayed blood in great mouthfuls as he spun through the air and flew back. His neck twisted at a strange angle, every cervical vertebra displaced. He flew dozens of meters before crashing miserably to the ground. No matter how he tried, he could not twist his neck back; the dislocated joints in his neck tormented him so badly that he let out shrill, agonized screams.
That was only because Lin Qi did not want to make his relationship with the Lion Clan too tense.