The wind blew.
Qi Yuan swung his fist.
It was very fast, yet it seemed slow.
The white-haired old man exclaimed, "Aiyo," and fell straight down.
Qi Yuan retracted his fist, patted his sleeve, quite like a grandmaster.
"Not bad, you were as strong as the opponents I encountered when I became a Spirit Realm Martial Lord, all taken down in one move!
It seems that some titled Martial Lords really aren't weaker than ordinary people," Qi Yuan commented.
As a Spirit Realm Martial Lord, he fought nearly ten thousand Martial Lords alone.
One move to resolve them, even facing the runner-up of the Martial Arts conference was a one-move affair.
So, in Qi Yuan's eyes, they were equally strong.
The white-haired old man got up, "You rascal, not giving any leeway to this old man, aren't you afraid I'll just lie down and extort you?"
Over the years, the old man and Qi Yuan had grown quite familiar.
