Zhin didn't break stride. With each motion, he rendered another opponent powerless, careful to keep his movements efficient and controlled. His expression remained cold, almost detached, as if dispatching an entire room of foes was simply another day's work.
A figure in red robes launched himself at Zhin from the side, a surge of blood energy crackling around his fists. Zhin raised a hand, and with a soft whisper of power, the man's fingers bent backward, his knuckles cracking with a sickening noise. He dropped to the floor, clutching his broken hand as Zhin turned to the next attacker.
The sect members were now more cautious, their initial recklessness turning to hesitation. But the president continued to glare at Zhin, his face twisted in rage. "Cowards! Attack him with everything you have!"
