Then, under the astonished gaze of the elderly man, the copper coin sword struck the man's hand, bouncing off immediately, leaving only a shallow white mark as if it had struck not flesh and blood but hundred-refined divine iron.
Wang Daoist was suddenly frightened and just as he thought of retracting the flying sword, he saw Cen Dongsheng stretch out his hand and catch the copper coin sword like swatting a mosquito; the flying sword trembled incessantly, unable to break free, and could only be firmly grasped.
"Puwa!"
Wang Daoist, whose mind was integrated with the flying sword, didn't wait for Cen Dongsheng to act before sustaining an internal injury, vomiting a large mouthful of blood plasma onto the ground, his face seemingly aging a few more years.
The next second, Cen Dongsheng, with no respect for the elderly, kicked upward hitting Wang Daoist's chest, sending him flying through the air in an arc, heavily falling on the front steps.
"I told you to run away quickly."
