"You old codger, do you really think a disciple of mine, Ming Daochuan, is so easily bullied?" But just as the terrifying, dark glow morphed into a grim claw about to snatch Chen Fei, a sharp, cold question shot out from another direction. It was as frigid as the dead of winter, followed immediately by a silver glint, thin as a thread, that materialized in mid-air and smashed violently against the dark claw…
A horrifying shockwave rippled out. The thread-like silver glint stretched to its limit, nearly snapping, while the dark claw seemed to have been utterly crushed, reverting to its original form—a cloud of pitch-black fog that frantically scrambled into a black box held by a short, elderly man.
CRACK. The edge of the box actually developed a slight fracture.
"Ming Daochuan, you..."
Seeing this, the short, elderly man nearly exploded with rage. His face contorted with extreme fury and savagery, his heart aching at the loss.
