Looking at the corpse embedded in the black iron wall before him, Feng Haiyuan thought, his throat dry, He Jiu was a Qi-Blood Fifth Level martial artist. With that strength, he counted as a capable fighter in the Nine Evil Sect in Yunlin County. He could ordinarily become a steward, and with luck and enough merit, even becoming a Grand Steward wasn't impossible.
But what had just happened?
One punch.
Just one punch.
He Jiu's chest had caved in, and he had gone flying without leaving behind so much as a complete sentence.
His corpse still slumped crookedly in the dent in the Black-Iron Cell wall. The dent wasn't deep, but any material used for the walls of the High-Security Block was certainly no ordinary thing.
How could the strength Yi Yang had just displayed possibly be at the Qi-Blood Fifth Level?
When one Qi-Blood Fifth Level fighter fought another, even the one with the upper hand had to counter each move, relying on how well he had honed his qi-blood and foundations. If pushed to desperation, he would still have to trade blood and stake his life.
Yet this old fellow in an Acting Patrol Commander's uniform hadn't even disturbed the rhythm of his breathing when he struck. That meant he hadn't used his full strength at all.
Once he had worked it all out, Feng Haiyuan pressed his tongue against the dry gaps between his teeth. His eyelids twitched twice before he finally forced a few words from his throat:
"You're not... at the fifth level..."
"You're at sixth level perfection..."
"How is that possible?"
By those final words, even the pitch of his voice had changed.
It wasn't a challenge. It was fear!
Even so, Feng Haiyuan didn't dare imagine that Yi Yang's strength had reached the