The gust of a fist tore through the air by his ear, as silver needles revealed their lethal intent before him.
Chen Yi slightly shifted his stance.
Qin Qingluo swept past him, her fist connected with that silver needle and, with terrifying momentum, smashed fiercely into Du Juan's face.
The crackling sound of shattered bones echoed. Du Juan's face caved in and fragmented entirely.
The roaring wind, long after Qin Qingluo had thrown the punch, only then began to subside gradually.
Qin Qingluo crouched halfway down before slowly standing up. The silver needle lodged deep between her knuckles; without concern, she yanked it out. A faint sound of cracking bone followed, and blood gushed down in streams.
Chen Yi gazed at this towering woman in silence for quite some time before he finally spoke:
"Thank you."
Qin Qingluo, staring down at her bloodied right hand, replied without looking at him:
"I knew this punch wouldn't kill you."
Chen Yi laughed and asked:
