"What, scared?" Seeing the hesitation on Chen Shitou's face, Meng Hu grew even smugger. "If you're scared, then obediently hand over the Yangzang Pill as an apology. Or kneel down, kowtow three times, and call me Grandpa three times."
"You're going too far..."
Chen Shitou shouted angrily.
"Since you won't give it to me, then Grandpa will take it himself!"
Meng Hu's expression darkened.
He had already run out of patience for wasting time.
He immediately raised his hand and swung a slap at Chen Shitou's face.
The slap was swift and vicious, slicing through the air with a whistle. If it landed, half of Chen Shitou's face would swell up.
Chen Shitou instinctively tried to dodge, but his speed was nowhere near enough. Yet just as the slap was about to land on his face, a hand reached out from the crowd and firmly seized Meng Hu's wrist.
Crack—
The crisp sound was not a slap striking a face, but bones being crushed.
Meng Hu's face instantly turned deathly pale, and beads of sweat the size of soybeans emerged on his forehead. His wrist felt as though it had been clamped in iron pincers, the bones there crushed outright.
"Ah—"
Meng Hu let out a miserable scream. Pain bent him over, sweat rolling down his forehead as his face turned white as paper.
He could feel that the wrist of his right hand had been crushed.
"Who? Who was it?"
Meng Hu's voice trembled with pain.
He turned his head and saw that the one gripping his wrist was a youth dressed in Inner Disciple robes.
That person was Chen Xuan.
"Y-you... who are you?" Meng Hu clutched his wrist, his voice shaking. "Do you know who my younger brother is? My younger brother is Meng Changsheng, the personal