Qin Churan moved.
Without wasting a moment winding up, she lunged straight at the special forces soldier holding a military dagger, her short hair tracing a sharp arc in the night wind as a fierce aura swept forward with her.
The mercenary was a battle-hardened veteran, his combat instincts etched into his bones. The instant Qin Churan moved, his pupils contracted, and he slashed backhanded, as swift as a striking viper.
Clang!
A crisp metallic collision rang out.
The vicious grin froze on the mercenary's face. He felt as though he had struck not a human fist, but an armor plate hurtling toward him at supersonic speed.
An irresistible force surged back through the blade. The webbing between his thumb and forefinger tore, his wrist bones groaned under the strain, and the dagger that had accompanied him for years was blasted from his hand!
Before he could comprehend what had happened, a delicate fist rapidly filled his vision and slammed squarely into his chest.
Crack!
The sound of his breastbone collapsing rang clearly through the silent courtyard.
The burly man, who weighed over ninety kilograms, never even had time to grunt. His feet left the ground, and he flew seven or eight meters backward as though struck head-on by a battering ram. By the time he hit the ground, he was unconscious.
The entire exchange took less than three seconds.
Song Qiuya and Li Xiaoyue watched in shock, then felt their own fighting spirit ignite.
They exchanged a glance, summoned their courage, and charged at the other two mercenaries with fierce cries.
Their attacks had no technique whatsoever, consisting entirely of instinctive punches and kicks. But against bodies transformed by the Taiyin Breathing Technique, skill seemed utterly inadequate.
One mercenary had just raised his rifle butt to block when Li