"Slap!"
"Slap!"
"Slap!"
...
Amidst the crisp, loud, and rhythmically resounding slaps, the fiery red sun finally leaped out of the soup valley, dispelling the last vestiges of night.
Above the Returning Ruins Abyss, a host of Immortal Gods stared dumbfounded in the direction from which the sounds originated.
They saw the towering figure of Wei Hu being held in the hands of the equally imposing Yu Yuan, as if he were a mere chick.
Anyone who witnessed this scene would find it hard to imagine that just moments ago, this Third Generation Disciple of the Chan Sect stood there arrogantly demanding an apology from the disciples of the Jie Sect.
But change came so suddenly and unpredictably.
By the time the Immortal Gods reacted, Wei Hu's cheeks were already swollen like a pig's head, and all his white teeth had flown out.
With every slap, splashes of bright red blood were scattered.
