Lin Chen murmured softly, his voice so flat it carried not the slightest ripple, yet it made the entire noisy plain instantly freeze into deathly stillness.
No one had expected that, facing more than a dozen Disciples of the Eight Desolates Sect—with two Innate Fourth Realm experts among them—Lin Chen would actually be the first to make a move.
No gorgeous techniques, no dazzling radiance; Lin Chen just threw out such an unadorned punch.
Yet this seemingly plain punch appeared to ignore the distance of space, even surpassing the limit of what many people's eyes could track.
Everyone only felt a blurry trajectory sweep past before them, and then a dull thud that made their scalps explode rang out.
"Bang!"
That young Disciple of the Eight Desolates Sect—his vicious grin not even fully fixed on his face yet—had the Protective Gang Qi around his body, at the instant it touched that invisible fist imprint, become as fragile as thin ice thrown into a blazing furnace.
