The little monk's iron-blue face, his eyes dead set on the smiling Zhao Douan not far away, suddenly spat out a small mouthful of fresh blood, which shockingly carried slivers of ice!
"You... just now..."
Tianhai's eyes widened, speaking in a broken voice.
Zhao Douan's right hand held the Taia Sword, its tip angled downward, his left hand behind his back at his waist, gripping tightly into a fist, from which droplets of blood seeped out, falling...
Clearly, during the exchange of palm strikes just now, both parties had sustained internal injuries.
However, Tianhai's injuries were evidently more severe.
"That's right, you wouldn't think that my palm strike just now was only as simple as it seemed on the surface," Zhao Douan said with a smile.
He really wanted to go in for the kill right now instead of wasting words.
But the turmoil of blood and energy inside him made him abandon this slightly impetuous action.
