"Ugh!"
With a muffled grunt, Old Monster Huang greeted them with his heavy, powerful fists.
"Pfft!"
"Agh!"
Xue Hen, Gong Wuer, and Situ Wudi were all sent tumbling backward.
They hit the ground and lay there, horror showing on every face.
With such horrific injuries, this old monster could still move, still fight back?
The answer, of course, was no.
Old Monster Huang's eyes were bloodshot. Unable to keep his balance any longer, he staggered, abruptly spraying a thick mist of blood from his mouth. His eyes fixed on the composed Lian Youming, his body tilted, and he toppled straight down.
Dead!
Lian Youming had not fallen. He was still standing. Caught by a sweeping punch, he reeled back four or five steps, then hurriedly steadied himself in a horse stance. He pressed both palms down through the air, settled his breathing and gathered his qi, then closed his eyes to suppress the blood surging up inside him.
Five or six seconds later, without even looking at the corpse on the ground, he retrieved the sniper rifle nearby. Turning, he leaped away, using a nearby old tree to launch himself straight into the mountain forest. He plunged deep into the night, heading for the other battlefield.
Youying followed close behind.
The other three tried to move as well, but no sooner had they stood than they sank back down, their faces pale.
Watching Lian Youming's retreating back, Gong Wuer sighed softly.
If, during the battle in Four-Nine City, they had still been evenly matched, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, with no great distance between them, then today's battle was undoubtedly the finest proof that Lian Youming stood unrivaled in the martial world.
He had set foot on the martial way later than any of them, yet now