"It's not over yet." Zhao Wuji, seething with inner anger, decided to teach this little prick a lesson. His right hand shielded his face as his left palm struck out towards Tang San's chest. Of course, he didn't use much strength; he had suffered a great deal and couldn't feel comfortable without a bit of retaliation. Of course, when his palm struck out, he had already withdrawn his Ten-Thousand-Year Soul Ring ability of gravity squeeze, otherwise, Tang San would have been crushed to death by this ability.
Boom, boom, two muffled groans came almost simultaneously.
Tang San's body was repelled by Zhao Wuji's palm, one of the groans naturally coming from him. As he flew through the air, he spat out a mouthful of fresh blood.
All his previous attacks had been executed with all his wits and Inner Strength; now close to exhaustion, how could he withstand Zhao Wuji's palm? It was already good that he didn't faint from the shock.
