Han Yu's move was completely unexpected. No one in the audience, no elder, no disciple—hell, not even the heavens above—could have predicted that he would spit on Murong Xie's face. And not just any spit. This was a nuclear saliva missile, laced with the infamous Scorch Gut Pepper, a chili so hot it once sent a grown man into spiritual seclusion.
But that was merely the appetizer.
The main course of pain was still cooking.
While Murong Xie was too busy screaming and trying to rub lava out of his eyeballs (a futile gesture akin to washing away sin with a wet napkin), Han Yu charged up his finishing move—the one, the only...
Bolt God Fist.
Air cracked around his fist, like lightning warning thunder it was coming in hot. A palpable aura of destruction flowed through Han Yu's arm, drawing gasps from both disciples and elders alike. The very atmosphere around the ring thickened as if holding its breath.
Xu Qing's eyes went wide.
