Mo Wangchen's clear words reached the ears of everyone present.
As the crowd reacted, they could clearly see the palm print on Han Shaoyu's face.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spat out two teeth, climbed up from the ground, and shouted at Mo Wangchen in a face of shame and anger, "You... you dare to hit me?!"
"Slap!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than another crisp sound spread all around.
Mo Wangchen's hand moved so swiftly that the crowd only saw a flash of white clothes before Han Shaoyu was slapped away by Mo Wangchen once more.
"And what if I hit you?"
Seeing Han Shaoyu's face, now imprinted with red palm prints on both sides, Mo Wangchen sneered.
Forget about the Han Family's Saint Heir; even if it were Emperor Huo, he would not give any face.
Last night, when he was crossing the Divine Tribulation, many of those who attacked him were from the Fire Land's forces.
