Sighing, the hooded man finally moved, voluntarily lifting a finger. "Maybe this will get it through your thick skin…"
A simple flick. That's all the man did. He flicked one of the incoming fists without batting an eye or missing a beat.
CRASH!
Propelled across the room, Zelsh was thrown into the desk in the corner, destroying it with ease. The crash landing left Zelsh with a sore arm and a sore back from the impact of the flick and the fall.
"Is that enough for you?" the man asked, preparing to a two-fingered flick as he sauntered toward the fallen king cultivator.
"... What plane are you?"
