The scene was dead silent.
The only movement was the dust slowly settling.
Is he dead?
Many people were beginning to wonder.
It was then that a hand suddenly extended from the rubble, followed by Po Shan struggling to climb out.
But now, he looked much more miserable.
Half of his skull had been blown to pieces, with brain matter mixed with blood trickling down.
With such severe injuries, any other cultivator would probably have died long ago.
It was only because the Shiva Demon Gate excelled at physical arts and had tempered the body to an extremely tough degree that he was still alive despite such critical wounds.
And the cultivators who witnessed this scene all felt a sense of extreme absurdity.
From the time this Hua Clan man with no cultivation fluctuation had arrived, in less than the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, he had reduced the domineering Po Shan to this state.
It was almost inconceivable.
