"Old man, stop your futile struggles!" the man in the black robe taunted loudly, his voice sharp and piercing, like the cry of a night owl, standing out starkly in the quiet night sky. His lips curled into a contemptuous smile, like a sharp dagger, stabbing straight at Lie Quan, mercilessly mocking his overestimation of his abilities.
The black-robed man's palm technique grew ever more fierce, pouring down like a violent storm, the shadows of his hands were so numerous they dazzled the eye. Each strike came with a whistling wind, "whoosh" it sounded, as if tearing apart the air around him.
Under this tempestuous assault, Lie Quan could only retreat step by step, stumbling like a lone boat tossed in the stormy sea, his body swaying, at any moment about to be completely devoured by this powerful offensive, like a flickering candle about to be extinguished in the wind.
With each step back, the friction of his soles against the ground made a "creaking" sound, as if in painful protest.
