BOOM!
Zhan Potian's fist thundered forth.
Yuan Yurong dodged to the side. A trench over a hundred feet long was carved into the hillside behind her, blasting ancient trees into splinters! The might of his single punch was earth-shaking.
The many people who had followed Ning Xuan's group down the mountain turned pale at the sight of this terrifying punch. The eyes of some onlookers even flickered with recognition. They knew who Zhan Potian was—his physique and fist technique were too distinctive.
However, no one was foolish enough to reveal his identity. They were not Ning Xuan; they could not afford to provoke the Martial God Temple. To be precise, they couldn't even afford to provoke Zhan Potian himself.
He was one of the elites among the Martial God Temple's younger generation. Although not on par with Ning Yang, his strength definitely ranked in the top ten, and that was a conservative estimate.
