Qin Yue's face had already lost its initial calm composure. A murderous aura spread from him in every direction.
Yet he merely stood where he was, his palm turned upward, clean and utterly empty.
Still, that murderous aura continued to pour out of him without end.
Yang Qing and the others were completely enveloped in it.
The people in the inn who had been sitting or standing nearby, hoping to watch the spectacle, now felt a chill creep up their backs.
Many of them quietly rose and fled the inn, not even bothering to settle their bills.
Others, however, secretly wondered whether they might be able to reap some benefits from Yang Qing and his companions when the time came.
They could naturally tell that neither Yang Qing's group nor Qin Yue, who had arrived later, were ordinary people.
If these two sides fought, even whatever scraps they picked up afterward would probably be worth more than what they could earn through years of effort.
But before these people could find a good place to conceal themselves, the ground suddenly shook and the mountains trembled.
In an instant, dust flew everywhere, blotting out the sky as it swept toward the crowd.
When the dust cleared, they stared at the scene before them, dumbstruck, unable to recover their senses for a long while.
They had been sitting inside the inn just moments earlier, yet in the blink of an eye, they were standing beneath the open sky in broad daylight.
They had not been ushered out of the inn. Rather, during that violent tremor, the entire inn had collapsed, leaving nothing but broken walls and rubble.
What astonished them even more was that all that commotion had destroyed only this inn. The buildings and passersby surrounding it had not been affected