Not only Mo Ya, but everyone else was left staring wide-eyed, unable to speak.
Mo Ya's attack had been so powerful that none of them could have dodged it, yet it had somehow failed to hit his opponent. Meanwhile, that turtle-slow attack had viciously slapped him across the face—and even injured him. What the hell was going on?
Under normal circumstances, even if a Ruler stood still without resisting and let someone at the initial stage of the Heaven-Slaying Realm attack with all their might, they would not be harmed in the slightest. What had happened?
Were they seeing things?
Everyone was stunned senseless.
"I want you dead..."
Mo Ya was even more on the verge of collapse. Seeing everyone's expressions, how could he not know what they were thinking? Furious, he howled and struck out with another palm.
But before the palm could land on his opponent, pain flared across the other side of his face.
Slap!
He staggered again and spun around on the spot.
"With your trash cultivation, you dare brag here? Why don't you just die!"
After two slaps that left him unable to tell east from west, Little Dragon planted his hands on his hips and snorted angrily. He looked as though he were lecturing some junior who did not know the height of heaven or the depth of earth.
"You..."
After steadying himself, Mo Ya spat out a mouthful of blood.
What the hell was this? You couldn't play like this! What exactly had happened?
Whoosh!
Though his heart was filled with shock, his hands did not stop. This time, he did not dare use an overly powerful move. He threw a straight punch, like a blue dragon emerging from the sea—direct and forceful, without the slightest flourish.
Slap!
The instant his fist came