Boom!
Ye Fan's second kick showed no mercy, striking the black-clad man's throat with unmatched ferocity.
The man couldn't even cry out in agony; he was kicked and sent flying, his throat bone, cervical vertebrae, and both his respiratory and esophageal tracts were shattered, nearly having his head severed from his neck.
Ye Fan landed, took a deep breath to steady the raging Qi-Blood from the excessive exertion, and then walked toward the black-clad man.
The black-clad man had not died instantly. Instead, since his cervical vertebrae were broken, cutting off the connection to his nervous system, he was thrown to the ground, racked with unimaginable pain, yet deprived of even the right to struggle. He laid there, paralyzed with suffering and the fear of impending death.
"Out of respect for a fellow ancient martial arts practitioner, I'll send you on your way," Ye Fan said, as he drew a dagger and plunged it between the man's eyebrows.
