After the fist wind passed, the hall was in a mess.
The strong fist wind blew away the rain curtain outside the door. When the Iron River Villa disciples who rushed over saw their sect master being sent flying by a punch, they quickly retreated in horror.
Tread, tread, tread…
Ye Jingtang stood in the center of the hall in a black robe, surrounded by the slumped sect masters and dozens of shocked disciples.
Although Guanghan Lin, who had almost walked through the gates of hell, was a little puzzled as to why Ye Silang had become so terrifying after not seeing him for a month, he couldn't care less at the moment. With the help of his disciple, he stood up, retreated, and quickly took a detoxification pill.
Guān Yujia leaned against the wall with a hint of surprise in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he stood up and casually patted his tattered robe. "What a good Eight Extremities of Thunder. Nephew Ye, you've hidden well."
