"Little sister, are you all right?"
Fang Yang asked anxiously, looking at his sister.
"I-I'm fine."
Fang Xin had been scared half to death as well. Her face was pale as earth, and her entire body trembled.
That strike from Xia Ping just now had made her feel as if her life had been plunged into icy water. It seemed even her Primordial Spirit had been torn apart, and her whole body had been sent flying backward beyond her control.
It had been like standing on the brink of death. Countless scenes from her past had surged up from the depths of her mind like flashing lights. In that moment, she regretted it so deeply her intestines turned green.
Had she known that man was so terrifying, she would never have run her mouth like that. Disaster truly came from one's mouth. At that moment, she clearly realized that she was no longer the Soul Clan's Princess—merely a homeless cur.
Just when she thought she was doomed, she finally came back to her senses and discovered that the thunder had been loud but the rain small. There was not a scratch on her body; she had merely been blasted away.
At once, joy and shock flooded her. Having hovered between life and death several times, she felt the delight of being reborn.
"What? She really isn't hurt at all."
Fang Yang had also sensed his sister Fang Xin's condition. On one hand, he was relieved. On the other, he was horrified, utterly shocked, and could scarcely believe it.
To send his sister flying without giving her any chance to resist, yet leave her completely unscathed—what astonishing control that required. It was simply the use of power brought to a miraculous pinnacle.
Only an expert whose martial cultivation far surpassed their