"Pfft—"
Another dull thud—Ji Taichong's body was directly punched through.
His body suddenly exploded from the middle, his head flying backward like a ball, spinning higher into the Void.
Meanwhile, his body suddenly fell, the blood rain intertwining with the bloody hue of the sacrificial altar, the bits and pieces of shattered flesh all being devoured by the altar.
Ji Taichong roared and shrieked, his voice ghastly as a specter's, a look of immense fear and uncertainty tinting his face as if he had never anticipated that Zhou Yan could be so terrifying without even drawing his sword, merely relying on the power of his fists!
"Impossible, impossible! The Sword of Li Cangsheng, a secretly transmitted technique of an ancient Great Power that I have fully mastered, how could I be inferior to you! Impossible!"
Ji Taichong roared, unable to believe that he could be punched to the point of exploding.
But that was the stark, brutal reality.