Immediately rising again, the whole person seemed to transform into a whirlwind, continually striking down.
But no matter what ax technique he displayed, he could never bypass that single finger to hit the person behind, eventually roaring in anger, his boots cracking, directly stepping into the ground, and fiercely chopping with his ax in hand.
The main house of the caravan was cleaved with a crack down the middle, dust and smoke dispersing.
When the smoke cleared, everyone hurriedly looked inside, their breaths suddenly halting.
The frigid, snow-bright edge of the ax was pinched by two fingers, the youth's expression calm, allowing the black-faced man to strain his neck with veins bulging, unable to advance further. Casually, he flicked his finger, and a small piece of the ax blade shot out like a streak of light, nailing violently into the wall.
Bo Meng's temples were shattered by a surge of Vigorous Qi, his pupils rapidly contracting.
