As the blood-red palm drew near, a cold glint flashed in Wang Qingfeng's eyes. He raised his hand, sending a palm strike into the void to counter the blood-red palm.
Poof!
The two forces collided.
The blood-red palm, like a piece of foam, instantly turned into a mist of blood, quickly disappearing without a trace under the bewildered and shocked gazes of the crowd.
Along with it went the slightly staggering figure of Kong Kong.
"Hehe, little monk, is this all you've got? Truly disappointing!"
Having won a move, Wang Qingfeng laughed sinisterly. The light in his eyes grew increasingly venomous, and a faint black aura surfaced on his face.
"Amitabha, I didn't expect you, benefactor, to even kill your descendants without hesitation, using dark magic to absorb their essence to replenish yourself. Truly cold-blooded to the extreme!"
Kong Kong did not answer Wang Qingfeng's question. Instead, he gazed calmly at him, speaking each word with striking clarity.
