After Shiye’s death, a bald man with a dragon coiling around his chest suddenly appeared.
Behind the middle-aged man, a three-headed, six-armed blood-colored statue slammed fiercely against the dragon-coiled figure behind Shiye.
The air around them trembled violently.
Lu Yun retreated quickly, his foot stepping on the flowing wind as he moved backwards.
He rushed past Pan Man, snatching Pan Man away from the barbarian soldiers, and fled at full speed with him.
A blazing flame mixed with gold and crimson burst skyward from Shiye’s side.
With a thunderous roar, the ground shook violently, and countless clumps of rotten mud and fragments of trees flew in all directions like arrows, accompanied by sharp “whoosh” sounds.
Leshan lay on the ground, letting out a hoarse, desperate roar before being swept up by the shockwave and thrown more than a mile away.
Fortunately, Leshan had inherited the Blood Soul Temple’s legacy.
His body was tough and far stronger than ordinary martial artists who only trained extensively.
This strike only worsened his injuries, and though he coughed up a dozen mouthfuls of blood, it wasn’t life-threatening.
As for the hundred or so barbarian soldiers Pan Man brought, most were blown apart on the spot with broken bones and shattered muscles, dying miserably right there.