"Shen Luo, Fellow Daoist Shen, look at you—neither human nor ghost. It must be painful, right? I'll reluctantly show some kindness and send you on your way, so you can suffer a little less." Zhao Tong shouted, raising his palm to strike Shen Luo atop the head.
"Stop..." At that moment, Huang Yi suddenly shouted in Rage.
Zhao Tong hesitated upon hearing this, his raised hand hanging in midair without actually coming down.
"Why are you stopping me?" Zhao Tong asked with a frown.
"I stopped him from attacking you earlier. Likewise, you cannot take advantage of his weakness." Huang Yi said, enunciating every word.
"Fellow Daoist Huang, have you forgotten? You protected me this time only to repay a favor owed to my master, not to interfere with me!" Zhao Tong snapped, displeased.
"That still won't do," Huang Yi said firmly.
"You say it won't do? That depends on whether you can stop me." Zhao Tong grinned.
With that, red light flared in his palm as he slammed it heavily toward Shen Luo's head.
With a loud bang, Shen Luo's entire body lurched downward. The earth and stones beneath him cracked apart, instantly collapsing into a pit more than ten feet deep.
Shen Luo's body fell into it, his head hanging limply to one side. Thin trails of blood flowed from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose like tiny snakes, while the aura emanating from him had weakened to the extreme.
"Zhao Tong!"
A furious roar suddenly rang out. Huang Yi abruptly raised his right arm and chopped it down at his own left arm.
"Pfft..."
A flash of blood appeared as Huang Yi's left arm was severed and sent flying. He kicked it toward Zhao Tong.
Seeing the poison-soaked arm hurtling straight for his face, Zhao Tong panicked.