The assassins were laughing uproariously.
The leader shook his head, "Kid, oh kid, you don't look like you're a match for Lan Qingyun at all, yet you want to challenge her to a duel. Be careful, or she might beat you half to death and toss you down from this eighteenth floor!"
"We're practically saving you, but you just can't appreciate it."
"It seems you're truly courting death."
A younger assassin, his face grim, said, "Boss, let's not waste words on him. Since this brat is ungrateful, I'll send him on his way."
He charged at Shen Zhou, throwing a punch straight at his face.
The strike was forceful and well-executed, unsubtly powerful.
Then.
He screamed.
He flew backward like a cannonball, slamming heavily into a wall.
The wall cracked and crumbled, showering down dust and debris.
The guy lay on the ground clutching his stomach, groaning in pain.
While moaning, he spat out blood.
Almost all the assassins had not seen what had just happened clearly.
