Yang Fan, feeling the surge of tremendous power, found his downward-moving right arm trembling slightly, his entire blood seeming to be on the verge of violently bursting from his body.
Bang!
A loud boom echoed, a roar rolling through the air.
Yang Fan, in mid-air, was sent flying backward, covering a distance of over twenty meters before finally performing a mid-air spin, barely managing to stand on the ground. He touched his chest with his hand, his blood churning, nearly unable to control it, a spray of fresh blood almost bursting forth.
Duan Zhixing was not having an easy time either, he sharply took four or five steps back, his solid feet carving a trench two to three meters long on the ground.
"Ha ha ha, lad, not bad. To possess such strength at your age, you could be considered one in ten thousand, a rarity in this world." Having stopped in his tracks, Duan Zhixing stood there and laughed boisterously.