"What arrogance!"
A disciple, furious upon hearing this, leaped forward, his toes tapping several times on the mountain path before he lunged towards Ning Fan, aiming a palm strike at his face.
"Die!"
The howling palm wind surged, carrying a sharp whistling sound.
"Get out of my way!"
Ning Fan didn't even look at him, and with a casual palm strike, sent the disciple flying backwards through the air.
The disciple arced through the air, blood spraying from his mouth, and upon landing, he smashed a huge crater into the steps.
Immediately after, his head tilted, and he passed out.
The other disciples, seeing this, showed a look of horror on their faces.
'Brother Zhang has been defeated with a single palm strike!'
'He's the highest ranking disciple in our outer gate!'
'Who exactly are these people?'
Just then, a deep cold snort came from behind the crowd.
The disciples dispersed, revealing a pathway.
