Before the dust had even settled, Chen Feng landed lightly by the edge of the enormous crater, like a feather drifting down.
He stood with his hands behind his back, looking down from above at the bottom of the crater. His voice was as calm as an unruffled lake, yet every word carried clearly downward. "Get up."
The crater floor was a complete mess. At the center of the scorched earth, Champa's entire body was embedded in the rock.
He coughed violently, every breath feeling as though shards of glass were grinding through his chest. Bloody foam kept bubbling from the corners of his mouth.
He braced himself against the ground, both arms trembling violently, yet he still gritted his teeth and slowly crawled out of the crater he had made himself.
His tattered clothes had been thoroughly soaked in purple divine blood. It dripped from his arms and legs, pooling beneath his feet.
His entire body was shaking—not from fear, but from exhaustion and severe injuries.
Yet he clenched his teeth tightly and looked up through the dust at the figure standing at the edge of the crater.
Fire burned in his eyes—humiliation, rage, unwillingness, and even a trace of fear he himself refused to acknowledge.
"You... you..." Champa's lips moved, but only broken sounds emerged. More blood clogged the words that should have followed.
Chen Feng gave him no chance.
The instant Champa opened his mouth, Chen Feng's figure stretched out like an afterimage, leaving only a crack in the air.
His right fist clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white. An invisible killing aura seemed to wrap around his fist.
This was no ordinary punch.
The force of the punch broke the sound barrier with a piercing shriek and slammed straight into Champa's astonished face.
"Bang—!"
A muffled