The old Taoist hurriedly tried to withdraw his hands, but he was a step too late.
Once, twice, three times. The sleeves, twisted tight as thick ropes, coiled around his arms. Three coils were their limit, but it was enough to ensnare both of the old Taoist's hands.
In truth, the exchange was already over. The moment their hands were bound, the old Taoist had been utterly defeated.
But by now, the old Taoist was getting rather annoyed.
It was an inauspicious start, being defeated right out of the gate. In a fit of anger, the sound of tearing fabric—RIP! RIP! RIP!—rang out.
The old Taoist had shredded his own sleeves. His wizened arms suddenly freed, he curled his hands into palms and thrust them directly at Fang Shuwen.
At this point, the old Taoist knew Fang Shuwen's Martial Arts were extraordinary, so this time, his strike carried even more weight.
He no longer had to worry about accidentally injuring the man...
