As those hands fell upon their shoulders, the expressions of Xue Ren and Gu Zhao—the two demon heads—changed in unison, and their hearts pounded with terror.
They found themselves feeling as if suppressed by an enormous mountain, unable to move.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave."
The speaker was, naturally, Shen Mo, who had arrived travel-worn from his long journey.
He had arrived late, but he had also witnessed the arrogant display of these two demon heads.
He would not allow them to act tough and then simply flee.
"Release me!"
His face contorted with rage, Xue Ren, still pinned by Shen Mo's hand on his shoulder, grabbed his Panlong Stick and lunged at Shen Mo.
Shen Mo neither dodged nor evaded. Instead, he extended his palm, meeting the powerful blow head-on. Then, he flicked his fingers.
"CLANG!"
The terrifying force, like the Yellow River bursting its banks, surged uncontrollably.
